


Cathedrals

by KarasuYurei, KouriArashi



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (for the Malec), (for the Sterek), Adoption, Alec Lightwood Deserves Nice Things, Amnesia, Bigotry & Prejudice, Crossover, Derek is Not a Failwolf, Detective Stiles, Established Relationship, Families of Choice, Family, Family Reunions, Hale Family Feels, Lightwood Family Feels, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, M/M, Mutual Pining, Past Child Abuse, Protective Magnus Bane, Slow Build, maryse is the worst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-06-08 16:38:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 78,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6863743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KarasuYurei/pseuds/KarasuYurei, https://archiveofourown.org/users/KouriArashi/pseuds/KouriArashi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events with Deucalion and Jennifer Blake, Derek goes on a search for his biological family. He, Stiles, and Cora head to New York City to try to find the family he doesn’t remember. It turns out that there was a lot to his adoption that he never knew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So basically what happened here is [somebody pointed out how much Matthew Daddario and Tyler Hoechlin look alike](http://redstringbanshee.tumblr.com/post/143124093312/lets-be-real-matthew-daddario-could-be-a-younger), whereupon a plot bunny emerged from a shady alley, beat me up, stole my lunch money, and held me hostage until I agreed to write a fic where Alec Lightwood and Derek Hale are brothers. =D
> 
> There will be some sketchy interpretations of both canons here, in order to get the two worlds to play nice, like the fact that all the werewolves in Shadowhunters have a full wolf form so I feel justified in letting Derek and Cora have a full wolf form. This includes some very loose interpretation of the Teen Wolf, uh, timeline. 
> 
> We’ll be working mainly off the TV canon for Shadowhunters, since I haven’t read the books, but I *have* read a bunch of stuff on the Wiki so book canon references might pop up occasionally. This would take place after the whole Valentine issue is settled because I'm more interested in a bunch of family feels than I am in dealing with plot stuff.
> 
> Actually not a lot of warnings for this fic beyond Maryse Lightwood being a terrible mother and both Alec and Derek having guilt issues.
> 
> Let’s get the ball rolling! It’s all TW in this chapter but I promise we’ll bring the Shadowhunters characters in in chapter two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _In the cathedrals of New York and Rome_   
>  _There is a feeling that you should just go home_   
>  _And spend a lifetime finding out just where that is_
> 
>  
> 
> _\- Jump Little Children_

 

In the immediate aftermath of the fight between Jennifer Blake and Deucalion, Stiles is what could be most kindly described as ‘a hot mess’. He can’t let his father out of his sight without having a panic attack. Sheriff Stilinski has a week off from work, due to his injury, and Stiles tells him that he has to spend the entire week on the sofa. When Stilinski informs his son that this is not going to be happening, Stiles follows him around like a little lost duckling.

The others have their own shit to deal with. Scott seems to have struck up a friendship with Isaac, for reasons that Stiles personally can’t explain. He doesn’t get what everybody sees in Isaac, but to be fair, at times he has no idea what Scott sees in _him_ , so. Maybe Scott just has questionable taste in friends. Though somehow Allison likes Isaac, too, so every time the three of them are in one room together, it’s too much sexual tension for Stiles to handle. He wishes they would just have a threesome and get it over with.

Lydia is doing better than the rest of them, and she’s really enjoying being the sane one. Stiles figures he can’t blame her for that, after the year they had. Everyone is at least marginally getting back into the swing of things, except for Stiles, who really just wants to spend the rest of his life in bed. Except he can’t, because every time he falls asleep for more than an hour, he has the weirdest, trippiest, freakiest nightmares in the history of mankind.

No problem, he tells himself. He’s just going to stay up forever. He can do that. Sleep is optional.

“Look,” Sheriff Stilinski says, after two weeks have gone by, when Stiles is brewing himself a fresh pot of coffee. “I want you to understand that this is coming from a place of love.”

“Oh geez,” Stiles says.

Stilinski walks over and removes the half empty mug from Stiles’ hands. “You have to get out of this house.”

“Dad, rude,” Stiles huffs, grabbing for the mug.

“The only time you’ve left in the past two weeks is when you’re following me around somewhere. I get that you’re freaked out because of what happened, bucko, but this is not healthy. I’ve let it go on longer than I should have. Go visit your friends, see a movie, play some video games. That’s an order.”

“Dad,” Stiles whines. His father just gives him a look. “Where am I even gonna go? Isaac is staying at Scott’s, and Isaac’s the actual worst, and Lydia’s dating Aiden, which, why is that even a thing that’s happening. My friends all suck.”

“Why don’t you go see Derek?”

Stiles nearly drops his mug of coffee. “Oh, yeah, Derek,” he says, laughing nervously. “Derek’s cool, he - he’s not a bad guy I guess, but he probably doesn’t want to see me, or want me around, I mean, why would he, right?”

Sheriff Stilinski looks like he feels a headache coming on. “Son,” he says, “please do not try to pretend that you aren’t friends with Derek Hale. I figured out around the same time I was trapped underground that you’ve done a whole bunch of stuff I wouldn’t approve of. Including sheltering him when he was a fugitive.”

“Yeah . . . that’s totally what I’m nervous about,” Stiles agrees. He tries not to think back to that horrible night at the hospital, to the way Derek had gone after Jennifer when she dangled the life of Stiles’ father over Stiles’ head, to the way his heart had leapt into his mouth at the sight of Derek unconscious in the elevator. He tries not to think about the way Derek’s hand had lingered on his arm when he left Stiles in the ambulance with Cora, or the way Derek had looked at him when Stiles punched him awake. ‘You came back for me,’ that look said, and Stiles, well. Stiles had been aware of the tension between them, he couldn’t not be, but that was the first time that _Derek_ seemed to feel something in return.

He hasn’t even seen Derek since then, and this doesn’t really seem the time to go visit. In fact, ‘never again’ seems the best time to go visit, especially after crying all over him in front of his evil girlfriend and then throwing his _first_ evil girlfriend in his face like that -

“Stiles,” Sheriff Stilinski says patiently, “would you at least get dressed?”

Stiles looks down at his flannel pajama pants and the T-shirt he’s owned since seventh grade. “Uh, yeah. That’s probably a good idea.”

He dons jeans and a different T-shirt, one that’s actually clean, and a plaid shirt, and then somehow his father pushes him out of the house and he winds up standing outside Derek’s loft, preparing for the most awkward reunion known to mankind. Somehow, he’s surprised when it’s Cora who answers the door. “Oh, uh. Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” Cora folds her arms over her chest. “What do you want?”

Taken off guard, Stiles blurts out, “My dad sent me over here to visit because I haven’t left the house in two weeks and I’m driving him bugshit.”

Cora narrows her eyes at him, then stands back to let him in. “I guess you think I should thank you or something, huh.”

“Uh. For what?”

“The time when you saved my life? You know, in the ambulance?”

Stiles flushes pink. “How do you even know about that? You were unconscious.”

“Yeah, but later my mouth tasted like coffee and Skittles, and you’re the only person I know who would even think about having those two things at once.”

“Circumstances were dire and it’s a good energy combo and also, it’s not like I had my tongue in your mouth!”

“Werewolves,” Cora says severely. “So thanks.”

“Whatever.” Stiles rubs a hand over the back of his hand. “To be honest, I had sort of forgotten about it.”

Cora frowns at him like she finds this suspect, but then Derek comes down the stairs and Stiles forgets all about Cora. Derek stops and looks at him like he has no idea why Stiles is even there. Neither of them say anything for a moment that’s way too long. Derek looks at Stiles and his gaze darts down to look at Stiles’ _mouth_ and Jesus take the fucking wheel.

“Hi,” Stiles manages.

“Hey,” Derek replies.

“I, uh . . .”

“Your dad sent you. I heard.”

“Of course you did.” Stiles flushes even pinker and looks away. “Sorry if I’m, you know. Intruding.”

“It’s fine.”

Stiles looks around and for the first time, notices the two bags sitting by the door. “Oh, are you guys, uh, are you leaving? Not that I could blame you if you were, I guess, Beacon Hills is pretty much a Hellmouth and according to Deaton it’s gonna get worse now that we woke up the Nematode or whatever the hell that thing in the forest is - ”

Derek sighs and interrupts. “Yes, we’re leaving. And it’s called a Nemeton, and it’s not the same thing as a Hellmouth.”

“Right.” Stiles swallows and tries not to get upset. It’s stupid to get upset. Just because he and Derek have had a few _moments_ or whatever he might call them, it’s not like Derek is his boyfriend. Hell, Derek’s not even really his friend. It’s just - on top of everything else, it’s too much. “Where are you guys going?”

“We haven’t decided yet.” Derek shrugs. “Just . . . not here.”

“You could go back to whatever alien planet Cora’s from,” Stiles suggests.

Cora flips him off and says, “Brazil is not an alien planet.”

“Oh my God, you were in Brazil? Did you actually just give me personal information? Hang on, I gotta call Anderson Cooper - ”

“I was staying in the Pantanal.” Cora stares him down. “One time I had to fight an anaconda for my dinner.”

Stiles considers that. “Who won?”

Cora looks disgusted. Derek, for his part, bites his lip to keep from smiling. It makes his adorable bunny teeth really obvious, and Stiles has to look away before he loses his shit. He blurts out the first thing he thinks of. “Hey, uh, what about your birth family? Have you thought about trying to find them?”

Derek looks completely blank. Not upset or insulted, just blank. “What?”

Stiles stares at him and, with dawning horror, realizes he just put his foot in his mouth all the way up to his knee. His immediate urge is to pretend he hadn’t said anything and moon walk out of the loft, but he screws his courage to the sticking place and says, “Uh, the people that the Hales adopted you from?”

“I’m not . . .” Derek looks at Cora.

Cora blinks back at him. “Are you?”

Derek’s blank look creases into a frown. He looks back at Stiles. “What are you talking about?”

“Uh, you know that I researched the shit out of the fire, right?” Stiles says, and Derek nods. “Well, there was a note in the file from a social worker about how she had contacted your birth family to see if they were interested in custody, since you were still a minor? And that they responded that they were unable to take you. I’m - I’m sorry, I had no idea I was dropping a bombshell on you, I just - figured you knew.”

Derek sits down on the hideous blue velour sofa. Cora perches on the arm of it next to him, her hand curling around the back of his neck. “It doesn’t change anything,” she says firmly. “You’re still a Hale. You’re my brother.”

“She’s right,” Stiles says. “Family isn’t about who gave birth to you. It’s about who gave you a home.”

“I’m not upset, I just - can’t believe I didn’t know. I feel like I should have.” Derek pushes a hand back through his hair. “Especially now that I’m thinking about it. I barely remember anything from before I was, I don’t know, nine or ten years old? It’s never seemed that weird to me. Kids have shitty memories and I just figured mine were worse than usual. But now that I _am_ thinking about it, I guess it is weird.”

“Yeah, if it was normal not to remember anything before nine or ten, I wouldn’t remember my mom, and Cora would barely remember your family at all,” Stiles agrees. “Sounds like magic might have been involved. Maybe the reason you were adopted was, I don’t know, because something bad happened? And somebody removed your memories so it wouldn’t be as horrible for you.”

Derek shakes his head. “It’s not like we can ask now. Unless that file had a name and a phone number in it.”

“No, it didn’t. It did say it was in New York City, though.”

Cora frowns at Derek. “Is that maybe why Laura took you there after the fire? Maybe she was looking for them.”

“Maybe.” Derek is frowning. “Actually, come to think of it, the first week or so we were there, we did meet with a bunch of different people. She said she was looking for someone she thought could help us. She never mentioned it being my family, but . . .”

“But she might not have, if she thought it would upset you.” Stiles frowns, thinking about it for a minute. “Do you remember any of the people you met with?”

“Not really. I wasn’t . . .” Derek’s voice trails off, but then he says, “I wasn’t really in a good headspace then. You know?”

“Do I ever,” Stiles says, but he’s flattered that Derek admitted that to him, that Derek was willing to let Stiles see that side of him.

“There was one guy, though, you could maybe find, because I’m pretty sure he was a cop,” Derek adds. “I saw his badge on his belt. He was a black guy, friendly, another werewolf. His name was, I want to say, Luke?”

“I really hate to break it to you, Derek, but finding ‘a black cop named Luke’ in New York City is gonna be a lot harder than you think,” Stiles says.

“But you could do it.” Derek catches Stiles’ gaze and holds it. “If anybody could find my family, it would be you.”

Stiles flushes bright pink. “Maybe. I mean, I guess. I could look, but, don’t . . . don’t put too much faith in me, okay? I don’t want . . .” He stops himself before he can say ‘I don’t want to disappoint you’. “I don’t want you to get your hopes up.”

“He’s right.” Cora’s brooding. “Your real family could be dead, or they could be . . . awful. I mean, they gave you up.”

“Thanks for summing it up,” Derek says, rolling his eyes. But he takes it seriously, mulls it over for a long minute. “No. I want to know. If we can find them. Anyway, I think I remember a few other things that could help. We met him at a Chinese restaurant, I know that much. And I think it was on the water.”

“Dude, in New York City, everything’s ‘on the water’,” Stiles says, rolling his eyes.

“I’d know it if I saw it. Or more likely if I smelled it.”

“Well, we were leaving anyway,” Cora says. “Why not head east?”

“I can text you guys if I find anything,” Stiles says.

“You aren’t coming?” Derek asks. He sounds a little surprised.

“I - do you want me to come?”

Derek ducks his head. “I just figured you would want to. I mean, when it comes to investigating stuff, you’re kind of hands on.”

Cora looks between the two of them and then rolls her eyes.

“Well, it doesn’t really matter,” Stiles says, and shrugs. “After everything that’s happened, there’s absolutely no way my dad is going to let me go trekking across the country.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

“You should go,” Sheriff Stilinski says, and Stiles nearly chokes on the tater tot he’s eating.

“What?” he coughs out.

“I think it’d be good for you. Hell, getting out of Beacon Hills would be good for anybody. This place is nuts. And you need a break from it.”

“I can’t just leave you alone here - ”

“Stiles, I am a large, semi-muscular adult man - ”

“I never should have let you watch Firefly - ”

“I can handle myself. You can call and check on me every hour if you want, but I actually think this would be really good for you. You’ve been through the wringer this past year. You’re barely sleeping, you won’t go to school. You said the other day you were even having trouble reading. You need a change of pace.”

“So you seriously think that I should trek to the opposite side of the country with a dude in his twenties?”

“If there’s anyone in this town I can trust to keep you safe besides me, it’s Derek Hale.”

Now Stiles really blushes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Stilinski arches his eyebrows. “You’re seriously going to pretend that you don’t know what I mean?”

Stiles thinks about the right answer to that question. “Yes?”

His father sighs and rubs his hand over his forehead. “Okay, you know what, we’re just going to move past that, I think. Suffice to say, if you want to go to New York with Derek and his sister, the answer is yes. Whether you actually want to go or not. I think you should.”

“But Dad,” Stiles says. “He wants to drive. To drive! He says he doesn’t like flying, no werewolf likes flying because they’re creatures of the earth, something like that.”

“Even better,” Stilinski says. “A road trip with friends is a quintessential part of growing up in America.”

“You seriously want to put me in a car for forty hours with Derek? He’ll hate me by the time we get there.”

“Stiles,” his father says, “you need this. Okay? Do this for me. Get out of this town for a couple weeks. Distract yourself with a mystery that’s not all covered in death and get - get yourself better. I’ll be fine. I promise.”

“We-e-e-e-ell . . .” Stiles sighs. “I guess it might be okay. Maybe. I don’t know.”

His father studies him for a minute before saying, “Derek Hale doesn’t seem like the type who asks for help easily. You know what I’m saying?”

“Yeah.” Stiles huffs out a breath. “Yeah, I do.”

“He’s had a pretty rough year himself.”

“Okay, Dad, I get it.” Stiles groans and dumps his plate in the sink. “But if you get so much as a hangnail, I’m coming straight home.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

Cora watches quietly as Derek packs up the last of his things. He’s aware that she’s watching, but doesn’t say anything, waiting for her to speak her mind. Finally, she surprises him by saying, “Are you okay?”

He looks up at her, a bit surprised. “Yeah. Why?”

“Just . . .” Cora shifts from foot to foot, frowning slightly. “You seem to be taking this whole thing about being adopted really well. And no offense or anything, but historically, you don’t take things well.”

Derek can’t help but snort. “That’s true, I guess.” He zips up the bag and turns to face her, seeing the way her forehead has wrinkled with concern. “I guess it hasn’t really sunk in yet. It just seems so . . . foreign. The whole idea. Mom and Dad not being my real parents, you not being my re . . . my _biological_ sister. I can’t really . . . parse it, you know?”

“Yeah.” Cora sits down on the edge of his bed. “Hell, I remember when we were young, people always used to tell us we looked alike. Laura, too.”

“Exactly. But I guess people see what they’re looking for.” Derek sits down beside her. “Part of it’s just that . . . I don’t really know _how_ to react yet. I have so many questions I would need answered first. Like if my parents are still alive. If they gave me up, why. Why they had my memories removed. What mom knew about it. I mean . . . whether I should be angry or upset or happy, I just . . . I don’t _know_. I’m just . . . I don’t know how to feel.”

“That makes sense.” Cora reaches out and wraps her hand around his forearm, giving it a squeeze. “You know, I won’t give you any platitudes like ‘I’m sure they had good reason to give you up’, but I want you to know that if you do end up angry, I will kick the shit out of whoever you want.”

Derek laughs. “Okay. Noted.”

“Also, are you insane?” Cora asks, and Derek arches an eyebrow. “What the fuck did you invite Stiles for?”

“Oh, well . . .” Derek sighs and wonders if he can beg off by saying it was just on impulse and he doesn’t want to take it back. Probably not, but he’s worried that the real explanation would just upset Cora. “It’ll be easier if he’s there.”

Cora looks skeptical. “Look, I get that he’s a good detective, and God knows I wouldn’t know where to start with this. But why does he have to _be_ there? Why do I have to spend five days in a car with him, is really what I’m asking.”

“You could fly,” Derek tells her.

“What? Ugh, no. Answer the question.”

Derek thinks back to the elevator, thinks about waking up after what Jennifer had done to him, how afraid he had been, until he saw Stiles. Stiles, who had come back for him. Who had kept his head above water for two hours in a swimming pool. Who had given up his first lacrosse game – it was stupid but so obviously important to him – to help Derek.

He’s not sure if Stiles even realizes how much that had meant to him, that Stiles had come back to make sure he was okay, and that he got out before the police arrived. He’s smart, but so oblivious sometimes. And he can’t know what it’s been like for Derek, to be so alone and need someone he can trust so badly.

Finally, since Cora is still staring at him expectantly, he says, “Stiles has had my back. That’s why I want him to come along.”

Cora winces, immediately understanding why Derek was hesitant to tell her. “I’m sorry. I mean, I know it wasn’t my fault that I wasn’t around at first, but I was a huge bitch to you when I got back, and you . . . you didn’t deserve it. I was upset about . . . a lot of things, about my life being a disaster. I took it out on you and that wasn’t fair.”

Derek pulls Cora against his shoulder. “I know. And it seems weird to say this about Stiles because he’s such a hyperactive spaz, but . . . there’s no one I’d rather have on my side. Or at my side.”

“He’s gonna talk the whole way,” Cora predicts with a sigh, “and I’m going to beat the shit out of him.”

“I’ll buy you some noise-cancelling headphones. You’ll be fine.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

Stiles is practically overflowing with nerves and anxiety when he gets into the car. Cora makes him sit in the back, which doesn’t really surprise him. He drums on his seat and snaps his fingers and asks her incessant questions about her time living in Brazil. Cora pointedly ignores him. Derek tries, but has to respond when they’re going through the Sierra Nevadas and Stiles starts perseverating on how far it is to the state line.

“Why do you care so much about when we get to Nevada?” Derek finally asks.

“Because my dad made me promise not to call him until I’d left the state,” Stiles moans. “He’s the _worst_. First he told me I could check on him every hour but then he sprung that on me.”

Derek sighs. “Your dad is going to be fine, Stiles.”

“You don’t know that,” Stiles snaps, and then winces. “Sorry. I just – after what happened, I just – I can’t believe he let me go on the trip. _Made_ me go on this trip if we’re going to be honest. If something happens to him and I’m not there, I swear to God, I’m going to lose my shit.”

“If anything weird happens, I promise we’ll put you on the next plane home, okay?” Derek asks. “Now ease off the throttle a little before my sister murders you. I promise I’ll let you know the minute we’re in Nevada.”

“Okaaaaaay,” Stiles says, slumping back against the seat. He pops back up a minute later. “So, there are almost four thousand restaurants in New York City. I don’t know how many of them are Chinese but it’s got to be one of the more common ones, after pizzerias and, you know, bars and stuff. And that’s assuming it’s still _open_. You can’t tell me anything else about it? Just that you think it was on the water?”

Derek shakes his head. “Sorry.”

“Well, do you remember if you had to drive a long time to get there?” Stiles asks. “New York City ain’t small, you know, if it was out at the end of Long Island, it could have taken you over an hour to get there.”

“Oh.” Derek thinks back, rakes through his memory of that awful month of his life. “I don’t remember any long drives after we got into the city. It wasn’t fast to go _anywhere_ , traffic being what it is, but I think I would remember anything over an hour, and I don’t.”

“Okay. Cool. So it was probably within the city limits, relatively speaking, and I don’t have to worry about Long Island or Bridgeport or anything.” Stiles huffs out a sigh. “But then there’s another problem. I mean, just because Laura met this guy there doesn’t mean that he’s affiliated with the restaurant in any sort of way. So we could find the restaurant and still be at square one.”

“Well, how many black cops named Luke could there be in New York City?” Derek asks.

“You’re kidding, right?” Stiles goes off into a spiel about the ethnicity of people in New York City and exactly how difficult it would be to find _anybody_ there without a last name, let alone a black guy named Luke. He gets distracted by his own statistics and starts mumbling and tapping at his phone, until Derek interrupts to tell him that they’ve gotten to Nevada. Then he drops everything to call his father, who, predictably, is fine.

They stop for the night in the suburbs of Salt Lake City, and Derek pulls into the parking lot of a budget motel. “Aren’t you rich?” Stiles asks.

“Yes, and that’s because I don’t waste my money on stupid shit,” Derek says, and goes into the lobby to get a room.

“Just one room?” Stiles asks, practically cringing.

Derek frowns at him. “Yes. If Cora and I shift, we can share a bed, and you can have the other. Why?”

“Nothing, just, I’m gonna call my dad and check in for the night,” Stiles says. He just won’t sleep. That’s no problem. He hasn’t really slept in weeks anyway. He sets himself up with his laptop and watches in some fascination as Derek and Cora both curl up as wolves. “Just gonna stay up and do a little research, let me know if the light from the laptop bothers you.”

It doesn’t. Within ten minutes, both of the Hales are asleep. Stiles starts compiling a list of Chinese restaurants in the greater New York City area. As he’s expected, it’s extensive. It’s nothing he’s going to be able to do quickly. But at least it gives him something to do. When he gets sleepy, he takes a cold shower and drinks a Red Bull. He brought plenty of them.

It’s safe to say that he’s a walking disaster the next morning, rambling away about what he’s found. Derek watches him with a faint frown on his face, clearly worried but not sure how to express it. They get a quick breakfast and get back on the road. Wyoming is interesting enough, but once they get into Nebraska, Stiles’ eyes start to glaze over.

“What is wrong with you?” Cora snipes at him, when they stop for a fast-food dinner.

“Nothing, I’m fine, I just didn’t sleep well,” Stiles says.

“You didn’t sleep at all.” Derek is frowning again. “Why not?”

“I was busy. Lotta research to do. Four thousand restaurants, et cetera.”

Derek shakes his head. “That’s not why.”

“Maybe it’s none of your business why,” Stiles retorts. Derek studies him intensely for another minute, and Stiles feels his cheeks flush. Then Derek nods and lets it go, taking another bite of his hamburger.

It doesn’t come up again until they get a hotel room, somewhere in the midst of boring-as-fuck Nebraska. “You can’t stay up forever,” Derek says, as he dumps his bag on one of the two beds. “Would you sleep if you had your own room?”

Stiles wants to say yes, but honestly, the thought of having one of those nightmares _alone_ is even worse than the idea of subjecting Derek and Cora to one. So he shakes his head.

“Stiles,” Derek says, and his voice is surprisingly quiet. “What is it?”

“I’ve just been – having – bad dreams,” Stiles says, trying to keep his voice even. “It’s not a big deal.”

“If you’re voluntarily not sleeping all night, that seems like a pretty big deal.”

“Yeah, just . . .” Stiles lets out a shuddering sigh. “I know I have to sleep. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He kicks off his shoes and dramatically flops onto the bed. Derek shakes his head a little and heads in to take a shower. By the time he gets out, Cora is asleep, too. Stiles seems to be sleeping peacefully, so Derek shifts and curls up next to his sister.

It’s hours later when he wakes up in complete blackness to the sound of Stiles screaming. Not small noises, either, but full-throated screams of terror. He’s out of bed and back in his human form before he’s fully processed what woke him, and grabs Stiles just before he can flail off the bed.

“What the _shit_ ,” Cora blurts out, as she manages to get the bedside lamp on. Derek looks down and feels his heart leap into his mouth when he sees Stiles’ face, sees the way his eyes are wide open but blank, the expression of panic and agony on his face.

“Stiles, Stiles!” he shouts, getting his arm across Stiles’ chest and pulling him into an embrace. He claps the other hand over Stiles’ mouth, afraid that someone’s going to call the police. Stiles continues to thrash around, but Derek keeps talking to him, low and soothing. “You’re all right, it was just a dream, I’ve got you, you’re all right . . .”

Gradually, Stiles’ attempts to shout against Derek’s hand taper off. He grabs Derek’s wrist and pulls it away from his mouth enough to pull desperately for air. “Can’t breathe,” he gasps, and so Derek pulls his hand the rest of the way away. Stiles slumps against him, panting and shaking. Derek rubs his back and rocks him back and forth. Finally, Stiles gives one last shudder and relaxes. “Okay, so. I did warn you. I’m just.” He chokes back tears. “I’m just saying.”

“You’re okay,” Derek says, smoothing his hair back from his face as Stiles curls tighter. “I’ve got you.”

Stiles nods and swallows a few more sobs. Derek just continues to hold him.

“Are they always like that?” Cora finally asks, sitting down next to them on the edge of the bed.

“Y-Yeah.” Stiles knuckles a few tears away from his eyes. “Sometimes worse, even. Dad’s usually – he says sometimes it takes an hour for him to calm me down afterwards. I don’t always remember it really well later.”

“Jesus,” Derek says. “What are you even dreaming about?”

“It’s – hard to explain. It’s like I’m being torn apart. Pulled in every direction. It _hurts_ – ” Stiles chokes out. “Or other times it’s like an out-of-body experience, where I’m watching all these horrible things happen, and can’t do anything to stop them. Sometimes I’m the one doing the horrible things, and I’m begging myself to stop but I can’t control my body.”

Derek gives a little shudder. “Since the thing with your dad, huh?”

“Since the Nemeton. Deaton did warn us.” Stiles lets out another breath, calming down a little. “That we’d be fighting the darkness for the rest of our lives. Allison’s having bad dreams, too. Scott isn’t, but instead he sees things when he’s awake. We can’t just – I sort of hoped if I got away from the Nemeton, it would get better. So did my dad. That’s part of why he really wanted me to come with you guys. But I guess it isn’t. And, you know, it was worth it, saving my dad was so worth it, but at the same time – imagining the rest of my life with this is like – I try to do it and just come up against a wall of screaming denial. I don’t know how much longer I can live with this and it’s only been two weeks.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Derek says. Stiles just shakes his head a little. “Hey.” Derek takes him by the chin. “You’re Stiles fucking Stilinski. You’re going to find one black cop named Luke in New York City, and you’re going to get through this. Okay? You got that, you dipshit?”

Stiles tries to smile and ends up crying a little more. “Okay,” he says. “Sorry that, you know. You have to . . . put up with this.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s worth having you along,” Derek says, and when he sees Stiles flush pink, _he_ flushes pink, and turns away.

“Yeah, it’s no big deal,” Cora says. “You’re nothing compared to a tribe of black howler monkeys.”

Stiles gives her a narrow-eyed look.

“You can hear those bastards up to two fucking miles away,” she tells him, and all three of them end up laughing.

 

~ ~ ~ ~


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally I was like "are we making this too easy?" and the answer is probably yes, but let's be fair, what we're really here for is characters from the two worlds colliding, so let's get to it! =D
> 
> (Apparently the Institute has a cemetery? Or maybe there's one next door? IDK, I read about it on the Wiki, so if I'm wrong, please forgive me....)

 

After some discussion, Derek and Cora agree to stay up so they can wake Stiles the minute he starts showing any signs of having bad dreams. Stiles rolls over and is surprised when he falls back to sleep right away. It should be difficult, but it’s not, given how sleep deprived he is.

He’s less surprised when Cora is shaking him awake less than twenty minutes later, and when Derek shakes him awake half an hour after that. “This isn’t gonna work,” he says, raking both hands through his hair. “You two need to sleep too. Especially you, since you’re driving.”

Derek nods. “Why don’t you stay up tonight, and then you can sleep during the day, while we drive? Cora can sit in the back with you and wake you up if you start to have a nightmare.”

“Yeah.” Stiles sighs heavily. “I guess that’ll work.”

Derek hesitates, then reaches out and squeezes Stiles’ shoulder. “We’re going to figure this out, okay?”

Stiles manages a wan smile for him. “Thanks.”

“You’ll be okay, staying awake all night?”

“Yeah. I’m mapping out all the Chinese restaurants in Brooklyn and Queens. That’ll keep me busy for a while, trust me.”

“I still don’t see why you’re perseverating on the Chinese restaurant when I know that Luke is an actual werewolf who knew my sister – ”

Stiles looks Heavenward as if he’s praying for patience. “Seriously, Derek? There are thirty-four _thousand_ police officers in New York City. If their demographics match the basic demographics of the city in general, then over eight thousand of them are black. Even if we assume that the gender split is fifty-fifty, which is one _hell_ of an assumption given that police work tends to be a male dominated field, that’s four thousand black male cops. Now, okay, Luke isn’t a hugely common first name but it’s not _rare_ either, and it could also be short for Lucas or even Lucian or Lucius. Since we’re trying to find someone who we only know was a cop five years ago, he could have retired, or transferred, or even been killed. Though I guess killed is less likely, being a werewolf and all, but still – ”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Derek says, rolling his eyes.

“For your information, I actually _have_ been running web searches for any cases that might involve a cop named Luke. I can’t just pull up a list of everyone employed by the NYPD.”

“Aren’t there records of that sort of thing?”

“Not public.” Stiles shrugs. “I can get Danny involved if I have to, but unless you feel like posing naked . . .”

Derek growls.

“Thought not.” Stiles trains his attention on his laptop for a long minute. “Hey, uh . . . sorry about that. You know. It was a jerk thing to do to you, putting you on display like that. I was kind of pissed at you but that wasn’t really an excuse.”

“It’s fine,” Derek says, getting back into bed.

“It wasn’t, though. Just . . . I’m sorry, okay?”

“Okay. Apology accepted.” Derek sighs. “Okay if I turn out the lights?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

The next day is a long one. They’re driving through some of the most boring scenery known to man, through more Nebraska and Iowa and into Illinois. Stiles dozes off but never sleeps for more than half an hour before he starts to moan and twist in his sleep, and Cora shakes him awake.

Derek knows enough about the human sleep cycle to know that this isn’t sustainable long term. Stiles doesn’t just need sleep, he needs REM. He’s not sure exactly _why_ people need to dream, but he knows that they do. If they wake Stiles every time he drops into REM for more than a few minutes, he’s still going to be sleep deprived.

Still, he seems to be feeling better, and eats an entire pizza once they stop at a hotel in Indiana, so Derek decides to take what he can get.

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

They arrive in New York City at about eight PM, and Stiles has done some research to find a cheap hotel within the city limits. Derek has to take a deep breath as they get out of the car in Brooklyn. Everything about the city reminds him of Laura. There’s a part of him that just wants to curl up under the bed and cry. Cora reaches out and squeezes his hand. He reminds himself that he might have family here, that there might still be a pack for him, somewhere.

They stop by a Chinese take-out restaurant on the water. It’s one of the ones Stiles has narrowed his search to, but there’s no scent of wolf there, and nothing about it is familiar to Derek. It’s busy, too, and the one Derek remembers was fairly empty. He supposes a lot could have changed in five years, and remembers Stiles’ warning that the restaurant might not even be open anymore.

It would be easy to get discouraged, but somehow, as he sits on the cheap hotel bed and watches Stiles crack his knuckles before he starts typing, he’s not. They eat their mu shu and their barbecue spareribs and watch a movie before he goes to sleep.

He wakes up the next morning to the smell of coffee and opens his eyes to see Stiles hunched over the desk. There’s a pink bakery box on the table next to him and a half-empty gallon of coffee. “Did you go out?” he asks, glancing at the clock. It’s just past nine thirty.

“Yeah, it was like, five AM, I didn’t want to wake you but I was starving and desperately needed coffee.” Stiles doesn’t look up from what he’s doing. Derek scowls, but gets out of bed and helps himself to the donuts. Cora stirs but doesn’t wake. “Okay. I’ve got some good news and some bad news. Which do you want first?”

Derek thinks about that while chewing. “Whichever order will make the most sense.”

“Okay. Sadly, I have not yet been able to locate ‘a black cop who might be named Luke’ out of the thirty-four thousand police officers in New York City.”

Derek huffs, takes a bite out of the donut like it offended him, and flips him off.

“Sidebar, did you know that the NYPD has more employees overall than the entire FBI? I mean, holy shit. There are 4.18 officers for every thousand civilians, which is nearly twice the ratio of the city with the next largest law enforcement presence, which is LA – ”

“The point, Stiles?”

Stiles stops, then says, “They have _submarine drones_ , Derek.”

“They have what? No, take it back. Don’t tell me. Just get on with the good news.”

“Okay, so, the good news is, I _have_ found a Chinese restaurant on a Brooklyn pier, which has a lot of terrible reviews on Yelp, a couple of which reference how unwelcoming an atmosphere it is and how the waitresses sometimes growl at them if they try to complain about their orders being wrong. And get this, it’s called The Jade Wolf. Because, you know, wolves are so Chinese.”

“That’s like a textbook case of ‘how not to blend in’,” Derek agrees. “Sounds like the place.”

“Well, they open at eleven, so let’s get moving.”

“Okay. But we need to set down some ground rules,” Derek says, and waits until he’s sure he actually has Stiles’ attention.

“Don’t sniff anyone’s butt, right. Got it.”

Derek presses a hand over his eyes and reminds himself that Stiles is, among other things, seventeen. “We’ll be on another pack’s territory without their permission. We will be showing up at their _den_ without permission. It didn’t come up back in Beacon Hills because things were so screwed up there, but this is . . .” He searches for something that Stiles will relate to. “It’s a very fine line between knocking on a door that you’re unsure of and an actual armed home invasion. No jokes, no smart remarks, we stop at the door unless we’re invited in, and you and Cora both stay behind me.”

Stiles chews on his lower lip for a minute. “What if they say they have no idea what Luke we’re looking for and close the door in our face?”

“If it sounds like they’re lying, we’ll reassess. Elsewhere.”

“Okay.” Stiles reaches for another donut, then says with his mouth full, “I’mma call an’ check in wiv m’dad if y’wanna wake Cora.”

Derek nods. He shakes Cora awake. She snarls at him but crawls out of bed. Derek goes to get into the shower. At half past ten, the rest of the donuts are gone, and they’re dressed and ready to go. Stiles wants to call them a taxi, since the driver might know the streets better, but Derek wants a car available in case they need to make a quick getaway, so they drive. The GPS guides them decently, and they only miss one turn before arriving at The Jade Wolf.

It’s a dingy place, set back from the harbor and nestled among the warehouses. Derek takes a deep breath of the salty air mixed with the smell of the cheap Chinese food and the underlying scent of _wolf_ , and recognizes it instantly. “Yeah. This is the place.” He pulls up as close to the restaurant as he can get without blocking the front and gets out of the car.

“Why do we have to stop at the front door? This is a restaurant. Shouldn’t we go in and get a table? Seems like that would be less rude,” Stiles points out.

“Because we aren’t customers. We’re another pack. If they want to invite us in and treat us like customers, that’s their right, but we’d be rude to assume.”

“Well, if there are other customers in there, they’re gonna think we’re hella weird,” Stiles says, then blinks. “You think of me as part of your pack?”

Derek gives him an incredulous look. “Yes. Are you an idiot?” He doesn’t wait for an answer before heading towards the door. Cora follows him, already looking surly about everything. He focuses his senses as he walks. He can hear about six heartbeats, more distant than Cora and Stiles, muffled behind the restaurant’s walls. They’re outnumbered, but not by a lot. He knocks on the door without waiting.

“We’re open!” is the response from behind the wall. Derek scowls at Stiles for being right and pushes open the door. He stops just inside, glancing around. There are two couples sitting at tables, and one waitress in view. They all stop when he comes in, and everyone stares at him. It makes his hackles rise, and he can tell that Cora is about to start snarling.

Derek deliberately steps in front of his sister and does his best to stay civil. “Sorry to interrupt. We, I, was looking for someone my sister and I met, it was a few years ago, and – ”

Stiles rolls his eyes and says, “Luke! We’re looking for Luke.”

One of the men at the table stands up. He’s a little more trim than the others, with tanned skin and dark hair. His posture is wary, but not overtly aggressive. “What’s your business with Luke?”

Derek opens his mouth, then shuts it and looks over to Stiles, who clearly has a better handle on things. Stiles smirks, but continues, “Technically, Derek,” he gestures here to indicate Derek, “is looking for his family. We think Luke might have met his sister, Laura, when they lived here in the city about five years ago, so we’re hoping he knows more about them.”

The man looks them up and down. “Luke’s at work. But I can call him.”

“Thanks,” Derek says, relaxing a little. “If he doesn’t remember me, he might remember my sister. Her name was Laura Hale.”

The man nods, and Stiles says, “So should we wait here? Can we order food? I mean, is this actually a restaurant? Because from the reviews on Yelp I’m not actually sure – ”

Derek puts a hand over his mouth. “Stop talking.”

“Because we’re going to start eating?” Stiles asks, hopefully, though it’s somewhat muffled.

“You ate like six donuts,” Cora reminds him.

“Donuts don’t count, they’re just sugar. I’ve had enough sugar.”

“No kidding,” Derek mutters.

The other werewolf sighs and points to a booth. “Sit. I’ll have Whitney bring you some tea. And yes, you can order food if you want.”

Derek lets go of Stiles and herds him towards a booth. “Thanks,” Derek says again, as he slides into the booth and pulls Stiles in beside him. Cora grumps along behind them and sits down across from them. The waitress comes over with the tea a few minutes later, and they each order a different dish. What comes out is three identical plates of lo mein.

“This isn’t what I ordered,” Stiles says. “Actually I don’t think it’s what any of us ordered.”

“Well, it’s what we made today, so, it’s what you get,” the waitress replies.

“This is a terrible restaurant,” Stiles says cheerfully.

“This is where you go back to not talking,” Derek says.

“We should have left you at the hotel,” Cora agrees, and Stiles just flips her off.

They’ve been finished with their meals for at least twenty minutes when the door opens again and a tall black man walks in. He’s wearing a suit and a friendly smile, and he immediately focuses on the strangers. “I hear you’re looking for me,” he says, dragging over a chair so he can sit down at the end of the table.

Derek nods once. “Thanks for meeting us. I don’t know if you’d remember, but we met once about five years ago. My sister, Laura, did all the talking.”

Stiles holds out his cell phone, where he’s loaded up a picture of Laura that he’d gotten from Derek. Luke glances over at it, a faint frown on his face. “Well, it’s vaguely familiar, but like you said, that was years ago. What was it about?”

“There was . . . our family had just been killed by hunters. Laura and I were the only ones left alive. We didn’t know Cora had made it and gotten away.” He stops and takes a slow breath. “So Laura was a brand new alpha, and we were afraid that the hunters were still after us. But I had been adopted, I guess. There were records that my birth family was here, so she brought me here to look for them. For me. For both of us.”

Luke is nodding. “Right, right, the Hale house fire. I remember hearing about that. Okay.” He looks up as the waitress brings more tea, and thanks her. “I remember your sister. But like I told her back then, I really don’t know much about your family. She said that you were adopted into their pack when you were ten, so that’d be fourteen years ago now. I was basically the lowest wolf in the pack back then. Not really up to date on current affairs.”

“Anything you can tell me would be helpful,” Derek says. “All I’ve got are these . . . fuzzy, vague glimpses of my childhood.”

“Now that’s interesting.” Luke frowns. “Sounds like someone removed your memories. Could’ve been your alpha, I guess.”

“What could a ten-year-old have remembered that someone would have wanted removed?” Stiles asks.

Luke shrugs. “Where he came from, apparently. That’s the only reason they would have removed everything wholesale. Even for an alpha, that’s a hell of a job. If you’re having flashes, it sounds more likely that a warlock did it.”

“Well, it wasn’t my alpha. Mom wouldn’t have done that. And even if she had, Laura would have known, even if she hadn’t known exactly what was missing.”

“Hm.” Luke thinks about it while taking a drink of his tea. “If there’s one person who might be able to figure out what happened to your memories, it’d be Magnus Bane. The High Warlock of Brooklyn.”

“Oh my God,” Stiles blurts out. “That title is cool as fuck!”

Derek and Cora eye-roll in unison. Derek says, “You’ll have to excuse him. He’s . . . himself.”

“Hey, who found this dude with nothing more to go on than ‘black cop, might be named Luke, Chinese food, water nearby’?” Stiles folds his arms over his chest and looks smug.

“That doesn’t make me wrong.” Derek turns back to Luke, who’s clearly trying not to laugh. “So how do I find Magnus Bane?”

“Well, I could give you the address to his place of business, but . . . no,” Luke says. “It’s a club. Eighteen plus. If you have fakes, I don’t want to hear about it,” he adds. “Officer of the law here.”

Stiles jolts a little. “Wow, you uh, you sound just like my dad. Wow.” He looks at Derek, his breathing coming a little faster. “I’m gonna go call him. Check in. You know. I’ll be right outside.”

Derek just gets up to let him out, and watches him go. Once he’s out the door, Derek sits back down. His head is tipped, obviously keeping an ear out for him, as he addresses Luke. “Fake IDs aside, is there another way to meet him?”

“I might be able to pull some strings and set up a meeting,” Luke says. He’s frowning after Stiles, as if he wants to ask if the teenager is okay but knows it isn’t his business. “He’s a friend of a friend. Let me see what I can do.”

“Okay. Should I just leave you my cell phone number?”

Luke snorts. “What, you don’t want to eat more lo mein? Yeah, I’ll call you. Might be a few hours. Magnus is good at what he does, but he’s not the most . . . available person in the world. He’s also expensive as hell. If he actually does any magic for you, he’ll charge out the nose. But he should just meet with you as a favor to me.”

“Thanks.” Derek jots down his cell phone number on a napkin and gives it to Luke. He and Cora head outside just as Stiles is about to head in.

“Oh, are we done? Where are we going?”

“Wherever. Luke is going to call me if he can set up a meeting with Bane.”

“I can’t believe I’m going to meet someone whose title is the ‘High Warlock’, that is just the coolest thing I’ve ever heard, can we go to the Empire State Building? And the Met? Did you know that New York City has a sex museum?”

“Let’s give that last one a pass,” Derek suggests.

“I want to go to the Empire State building, too,” Cora says.

“So you can judge people from above?” Derek asks, and she shrugs.

“The Empire State building isn’t _that_ tall,” Stiles says, rolling his eyes as they get in the car. “I mean, it’s not even the tallest building New York City, let alone the US. I mean, the Burj Khalifa is over _twice_ as tall as the Empire State building – ”

Derek sighs as he gets behind the wheel. He never stops. But seeing Stiles rattle off trivia and Cora roll her eyes at them makes him feel strangely comfortable, like things that had been askew are now being set right. He shakes his head, but he’s smiling as he starts the car.

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

They’ve been at the Met for about four hours when Derek’s phone chimes and sees that he has a text from Luke. ‘He’s agreed to meet you,’ the first text says, and then he gets another text with an address. ‘Seven PM. It’s before the club opens.’

Derek texts back his thanks and then tells Cora and Stiles. Stiles is excited, of course, and so is Cora, albeit much more quietly. It’s just past four, so Derek suggests they finish up with the room they’re in and then go find something to eat. Stiles, of course, has a hundred ideas about where they should go.

“Pick the fifth one on your list, if you arrange them alphabetically,” Derek tells him.

Stiles stops and thinks about that for a minute before he says, “Okay!”

About an hour later, they’re sitting down to eat. Cora studies her brother. “You nervous?”

Derek nods a little. “I can’t help but wonder why. Why they gave me up. I mean, do I actually want to know these people?”

“From the sound of it, I think they were trying to protect you,” Stiles says. “I mean, why erase your memory, otherwise? I mean, that’s just a theory.” He shrugs a little and devotes himself to his food. It takes effort to keep his heartbeat steady, because he knows Derek will hear his doubts. He just can’t help but think back to the notes in the file about Derek’s birth family’s response after the fire.

Derek shrugs. “Maybe. Either way I need to know who they are. I guess we can decide what to do from there.”

Stiles perks up a little at his use of the plural pronoun. Cora just rolls her eyes again, thinks about commenting on how cute they are, and decides against it.

They take a cab to the club, because Stiles points out that they don’t know what the memory recovery process is like or whether or not Derek will be able to drive afterwards. Both Stiles and Cora _can_ drive, but of course it will be a cold day in hell before Derek lets them drive his Camaro. Traffic is terrible and they nearly don’t make it by seven, and it clearly takes Derek a great deal of effort not to jump out of the taxi and just start leaping over cars. His fists clench and relax. Stiles sees him doing it and hesitantly reaches over, not taking his hand, but just nudging his own up alongside Derek’s. Derek stares down at it in surprise, then looks out the taxi window as he curls Stiles’ hand inside his own.

They pull up at the club at almost exactly seven, and Stiles starts snickering when he sees the sign. It’s not turned on, but ‘Pandemonium’ strikes him as an amusing club to be owned by a warlock. The doors are propped open, and they’re allowed to enter without anyone stopping them, even though the club clearly isn’t open for business. The dance floor is empty and the bar is deserted. It’s lit by floodlights instead of the usual flashing colored lights of a club.

“Hello?” Derek calls out.

A man sweeps out from behind a door that they hadn’t noticed, and he’s easily the most fabulously dressed man any of them have ever seen. He’s wearing tight black pants and a red button down shirt that’s only buttoned halfway up, and a black jacket. His black hair is standing up straight and tipped with crimson, and the necklaces he’s wearing draw immediate attention to the swath of tanned skin that his shirt has bared.

“You must be the little lost lamb that Clary called me about,” the man says. “Magnus Bane, at your service.”

“More like Magnus Babe,” Stiles blurts out. Cora also seems arrested by the view, jaw slightly slack as she takes Magnus in.

Derek, for his part, is unfazed. “Can you call wolves lambs?”

“I can call anyone anything I like,” Magnus replies. “Now, what should I call you?”

“Derek Hale. That’s my sister, Cora, and this is Stiles.”

“Delighted,” Magnus says, with a slight smirk in Stiles’ direction. Stiles tries not to let his eyes glaze over. “You know, you actually look somewhat familiar. I’d ask if we’d met before, but I suppose the fact that you wouldn’t know is the entire point of your visit.”

“Kinda, yeah.” Derek gives Magnus a suspicious look when he sees him smirk at Stiles.

“No worries, puppy. I’m taken,” Magnus says, and when Stiles blinks at him, clearly wondering why that had come up, he ignores the teenager. Instead, he sidles up to Derek, snapping his fingers and producing a handful of blue flame. “Well, it’s not my work; I can say that for sure.”

“Holy shit!” Cora yelps, and she has Derek yanked back before anyone else has time to blink. Then, almost immediately, she sees that it’s magic, not actual fire, and looks embarrassed, which she tries to cover up by scowling.

“Never seen a warlock use his craft before?” Magnus asks, his voice merely curious, not mocking. “It’s actually quite cool. Literally.” He opens his palm and lets the magic drift off so Cora can reach out to it if she so chooses.

“I don’t like fire,” Cora mumbles. She gives the blue flames the side eye, and sniffs cautiously. There’s no smell of fire. After another second, she reaches out to poke at it, clearly ready to jerk back if it’s some sort of trick. It takes a couple of jabs for her to actually make contact long enough to realize that Magnus is right and it’s cool to the touch.

“That’s so awesome,” Stiles says, joining her in dipping his fingers in the flame, stirring it up into a tiny tornado.

Magnus looks at him in surprise. “You’re not quite mundane, are you?”

“What? I – guess not?” Stiles replies, blinking.

Derek moves in closer, wrapping an arm around Cora’s shoulders. “I guess I never thought about it that much, but he can manipulate mountain ash, too.”

“Deaton said I was a spark,” Stiles says, throwing that out there with the clear implication that he doesn’t know exactly what it means.

“Fae blood in your ancestry somewhere, most likely.” Magnus lets the blue flames dissipate and claps. “But that’s not why we’re here, is it? We’re here to help you. I’m not the one who took your memories, so I can’t give them back to you. But I might be able to figure out who it was. I know everyone who’s anyone around here, and a great number of the people who aren’t anyone.”

“I’d like to have the memories back. But the point is that I’m trying to figure out who my birth family is. I can’t help but think that there can’t be many people that give up a ten year old werewolf all of a sudden.”

“You don’t know it was all of a sudden,” Stiles says in an undertone.

Derek rolls his eyes. “Thank you.”

“We’re trying to be specific! This is a mystery! Mysteries are solved with facts and evidence!”

“You _are_ familiar,” Magnus murmurs, tilting his head to one side. He holds his hands up as if he’s framing a picture, looking at Derek through them. “Especially when you roll your eyes. I don’t suppose . . . you have no memories of your childhood? None at all?”

“Bits and pieces, but they’re fuzzy. Sometimes I remember playing with kids my own age in a field. But then sometimes it’s a cemetery. So I can’t even trust the little bits.”

“Mm hm.” Magnus snaps his fingers and a blue hologram appears in his hand that looks just like a graveyard. “This cemetery?”

Derek’s eyes go wide, and he nods. “How did you . . .”

“Excuse me,” Magnus says, “I have to make a phone call. I think I might know someone who would know you.”

Derek just nods again. Once Magnus moves away, he turns to the other two. “This . . . is happening faster than I thought it would,” he says, an understated way of saying that he was nervous.

“Hey, I told you, you put Detective Stiles is on the case, things are gonna get _done_ ,” Stiles says, hoping that his joking tone will get Derek to relax. It works, a little, in that Derek shakes his head at Stiles and looks around for a place to sit.

Magnus’ voice, suddenly loud in the club, startles him. “Hello, darling. Might I ask you a terribly personal and somewhat random question?”

Derek closes his eyes to focus on the other end of the conversation, and hears a voice reply, “From you, I’d expect nothing less.” He doesn’t recognize the voice, but it tugs at him anyway, some sense of familiarity that has nothing to do with recognition.

“Did you happen to have a brother who got turned into a werewolf, or perhaps a cousin? He might have been adopted out to a pack?”

There’s a moment of startled silence. “I – had a brother who was _killed_ by a werewolf. When I was ten.”

Derek startles a little at that, like he’s been slapped, but then he pushes that aside to start listening again. Stiles, for his part, looks clueless.

“Did this brother have a name?” Magnus asks.

“Yeah. It was Derek.”

“What’s happening?” Stiles hisses, seeing that Derek looks like he’s been sucker punched to the gut.

At the same time, whoever Magnus has on the phone says, “Magnus, why are you asking me this?”

Magnus clears his throat. “I think you’d best come to the club, because I’m fairly sure your brother is standing in front of me, quite alive and kicking.”

Derek waves Stiles to silence, but grabs his hand. Stiles looks like he’s been hit in the face with a board, but squeezes it in response. There’s another moment of stunned quiet on the phone, and then the voice says, “Izzy and I will meet you at the loft. We shouldn’t do this at the club, it’ll be opening soon.”

“Very well, dearest.” Magnus says goodbye and tucks his phone away. “I suppose you probably were able to hear most of that?”

“Yes,” Derek replies.

“Well, I wasn’t!” Stiles says, looking like he’s about to stamp his foot like a toddler.

Derek squeezes his hand again, but he’s solely focused on Magnus and his theoretical brother. “He . . . he’s not a werewolf, is he? What if he – oh, God, tell me that he’s not a hunter – ”

“No, not in the sense that you mean it,” Magnus says. “Demon hunter, yes. Werewolf hunter, no.”

“Still waiting to be clued in here,” Stiles says.

“Magnus just called someone who’s probably my brother. Someone who thought I’d been _killed_ by a werewolf, when he was ten.”

“Oh, that’s . . .” For the first time since Derek has known him, Stiles seems at a loss for words. “That’s . . .”

Magnus clears his throat. “His name is Alec, and he’s going to be meeting us back at my loft, where I think perhaps I should get you a stiff drink.”

“That would be appreciated.” Derek tries to kick his brain into gear. “We took a cab here.”

“Excellent thinking.” Magnus snaps his fingers, and a large square of writhing purple-black energy appears next to him.

“Holy _shit_ ,” Stiles says, eyes nearly popping out of his head.

Cora and Derek both take a step back. “What is that?” Cora asks, her voice tight.

“Oh, it’s a portal.” Magnus backs up and disappears through it, then comes back through. “Just your average every day worm hole.”

“Oh my God, _awesome_ ,” Stiles says, and practically throws himself through it.

“Stiles!” Derek growls, but it’s too late. He takes a deep breath and dives in, pulling Cora along with him. They come out in a beautifully appointed loft which Stiles is already hastening to explore. Magnus appears behind them a moment later, and the square of energy disappears.

“Well!” the warlock says, and claps his hands. “Drinks, anyone?”

 

~ ~ ~ ~


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your comments so far! We're really glad that you're enjoying the fic. <3

 

Derek’s brain starts to catch up with reality as Magnus flits around the kitchen. “Werewolves can’t get drunk.”

Magnus chuckles. “Oh, they can if the bartender knows what they’re doing.”

“Okay. Drinks.” Derek watches both Stiles and Magnus for a few moments, catching his breath. “Please tell me that Stiles can’t accidentally blow himself up with anything you have here?”

“It’s highly unlikely,” Magnus assures him.

There’s a long pause. “What about on purpose?”

“Why would I blow myself up on purpose?” Stiles asks, hastily setting down a book.

“You’ll blow something up and then get caught in the blast. I know you.”

“That’d still be accidental,” Stiles says, a trifle smug.

Magnus hands Derek a drink. “He’ll be fine. The worst he can do in here is singe his eyebrows off, and even that’s fairly unlikely, unless I’ve highly underestimated the amount of actual talent he has.”

Stiles’ smug face turns into a sulk.

Derek takes a swallow of his drink and looks like his own eyebrows have been singed off. He coughs, gains control, and says, “With Stiles, always assume he’ll manage at least four times what you thought he was capable of. In all things.”

Stiles’ eyes widen slightly. “That – that was a compliment! Derek, you just complimented me!”

Derek just huffs and takes another drink. He’s actually starting to relax a little, which is nice, and then someone knocks on the door just before opening it and immediately all his muscles tighten up again. He’s half-expecting a moment of instant recognition, but the two people who enter are strangers to him. Even so, he can immediately see the resemblance between himself and the tall man who enters, wearing a blue button down shirt and jeans. The woman, behind him, is dressed in a red dress that has Stiles’ eyes popping out of their sockets.

Everyone just stops in their tracks. Cora moves closer to Derek, feeling like this is awkward even though they had actively been looking for these people. Stiles’ mouth is somewhat ajar. Derek turns towards Magnus as the person who has at least met everyone in the room.

“Alexander, Isabelle,” Magnus says, blowing the taller man a kiss, “this is Derek Hale, his sister Cora, and his . . . friend. Stiles. He came to New York City looking for his family.”

“Call us Izzy and Alec,” the woman says, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Just . . . oh my God. Is it really you?”

“I . . . don’t know.” Derek tries not to look as nervous as he feels. Everyone seems to be holding their breath. “I know I was adopted when I was ten. I have some vague and fuzzy memories that are basically just a wash of color. And it never really bothered me. I used to play with kids my own age in a cemetery. And . . . I think I used to have a cat? A really cranky gray cat.”

“Oh my God, it _is_ you!” Izzy’s hand is over her mouth. She trots over to him with her arms held wide, clearly ready to give him a hug. He lets her, and even tries to return it, because her scent says she’s desperate to show affection. It feels awkward, but surprisingly not bad.

Alec approaches a little more cautiously, frowning as he studies Derek, unsure for what looks like a hundred reasons. He startles a little when Magnus slides a hand around his upper arm in a gesture of silent comfort and support. Then he lets out a shuddering breath. “Jesus, it’s . . . it really looks like you. I mean. I know it’s been almost fifteen years, but . . .”

“I . . . don’t know if you’re older than me. Or younger. Neither seems right. I don’t know anything about you.” Derek thinks that maybe he should shut up. “I don’t know if there are more of you. I don’t even know _what_ you are, aside from the fact that you don’t smell human.”

“You’re older. By . . . by seventeen and a half minutes.” Alec is still staring. “You never used to let me forget that. I probably shouldn’t have told you.”

“We’re twins. Okay. I need another drink.”

“I think we could all use one.” Izzy gives Derek a reassuring smile as she steps away. “Magnus, can we leave that in your capable hands?”

“Certainly,” Magnus says, leaning over to press a kiss against the corner of Alec’s mouth before he heads into the kitchen.

“We, uh . . . we do have a cat,” Alec offers. “Church. He hates everybody.”

“Why do I remember that, of all things.” Derek goes to sit on sofa, near where Cora is perched on the arm rest. “What happened? Do either of you know?”

“Well, we know that you got attacked by a werewolf,” Alec says. He folds his arms over his stomach and looks away. “Then a couple hours later Mom told us that you’d, you know, died. Of the injuries.”

“Why would anyone lie about that?” Derek asks, looking fairly taut and defensive himself.

Magnus comes in with the drinks. He hands Izzy a glass of wine and has two martini glasses for Alec and Derek. Then he has two rocks glasses for Cora and Stiles. “What is this?” Stiles asks eagerly.

“It’s ginger ale, cupcake,” Magnus says, and Stiles pouts. “To answer your question, Derek, I could hazard a guess, but I’m afraid that I’m rather biased about the people involved, so I’m not sure if anyone would be interested in my opinion.”

Alec looks up, his jaw set and angry. “You think Mom . . . of course you do.”

“What do you think M . . .” Derek can’t make himself say it. “What’s your mother’s name?”

“It’s Maryse.” Izzy takes a drink of her wine. “She doesn’t . . . like . . . Downworlders very much. Werewolves, vampires, whatever. So . . . that might be why she decided to send you to live with a werewolf pack. We don’t _know_ that, though,” she says, with a bit of anxiety in her voice. “I mean, we shouldn’t assume the worst. Maybe Mom thought you were dead, too.”

Derek opens his mouth to say something scathing, but manages to hold himself back. “Then let’s just ask her.”

Alec looks at Izzy. “You should probably call her, not me.”

Izzy nods. “Smile for the camera!” she says, holding up her phone to get a picture of Derek, who scowls and averts his eyes so he won’t flash-glare the camera to death. Then Izzy taps on her phone for a few minutes. “Hello, mother! I just sent you a picture, did you get it . . .?”

Derek trains his hearing on the other end of the conversation, where a woman says, “Is this important? I’m busy.”

“Oh, it’s pretty important,” Izzy says.

There’s a sigh on the other end of the phone, and then the woman says, “Well, he certainly seems more presentable than your _last_ conquest.”

Derek looks taken aback. “Is she always like that?”

“Without actually being able to overhear the other end of the conversation, I can assure you, most unequivocally, yes,” Magnus replies.

Izzy is talking at the same time. “Yeah, he seems great. His name is Derek. He got bitten by a werewolf fifteen years ago, and, funny story, had all his memories removed after being adopted out to a pack.”

Derek’s eyebrows climb. Cora leans over to him and murmurs, “Yeah, she’s definitely related to you.”

There’s a moment of silence on the other end of the phone, before Maryse says, “If you want something from me, Isabelle, you should just come right out and say that.”

“I want – ”

Alec’s temper snaps. He grabs the phone out of Izzy’s hand and says, “I want to know if you lied to me and told my that my _twin brother_ was dead, and if you let me think that for the last fifteen years.”

“He is dead.” Maryse’s voice is cold and angry. “He’s dead to us.”

“Dead to _you_!” Alec shouts. “He’s not dead to me! You had no right!”

“I suppose even attempting to explain it to you would be a waste of breath,” Maryse replies.

Magnus gently takes the phone out of Alec’s hand before he can keep yelling. “Darling,” he says, in a low voice, “perhaps we should let Derek get some of his questions answered?”

“I do want to know how I ended up forgetting my siblings and living in California,” Derek says. He can’t muster up much of an emotional reaction to Maryse’s words. He doesn’t know her, so this is academic for him. Besides, he’s heard a lot of bad things about werewolves in the past year. He’s getting used to it.

Alec’s jaw clenches like it’s going to shatter. “Fine. I – I can’t – ” He turns around without finishing the sentence and slams out of the loft.

Magnus offers Derek the phone. After a moment, he takes it. He opens with, “This is Derek Hale,” because he’s happy to separate himself from her if she upsets Alec and Izzy this much. “Since you’re apparently my birth mother, there are a few blanks I need filled in for me.”

Stiles tugs on Derek’s sleeve and hisses, “Put it on speaker!”

Derek makes an exasperated face and waves him off, but does as asked, just as Maryse says, “Such as?”

Derek takes a second to order his thoughts. She sounds like the sort of person who’s only going to let him have one shot at this, so he wants everything on the table. “What were the circumstances that led to me being bitten? Why were my memories taken, and who did it? How did I end up being adopted in California, and why did you tell everyone that I was actually dead?”

“Anything else?” Maryse asks, her voice a trifle sarcastic. Stiles’ jaw sags, and he mouths, ‘what a bitch!’

“I’ll let you know if I come up with something.”

“Your father was out on an assignment, and unfortunately got in the middle of a werewolf turf war. You had snuck out and followed him, and you got bitten. Since we were unable to provide for a werewolf child, it seemed in your best interest to have you adopted by a pack. The alpha of the Hale pack was a friend of the warlock who removed your memories, and he asked her if they could take you, which they did. It seemed to my husband and I that it would be less traumatizing for Alec and Isabelle if they didn’t know all the details.”

“I would have needed a pack, older werewolves, yes.” Derek’s voice is tight with anger. “But that doesn’t explain why you had my memory wiped. Also, yes, of course I can see how ‘your brother died in a bloody spectacle’ is far less traumatic than ‘he needs different things now but you can still talk on the phone and see each other sometimes’.”

“Your memories were removed because of what you were before you were bitten, which I see nobody has bothered to explain to you.”

“It’s not our fault he doesn’t know,” Magnus murmurs, pouring Izzy another glass of wine.

“I’ll bite,” Derek says, and Stiles snickers. “What was I?”

“Nephilim. A shadowhunter, a guardian of mankind. There were things you knew, even as a child, that could not be allowed to leave the boundaries of our world.”

“That is such _bullshit_!” Izzy bursts out.

“Watch your tone, young lady – ”

“Oh, so he would have known demons existed and might have been able to draw a few runes that he wouldn’t actually be able to use. How would that have been a danger to _anyone_? How is that an excuse for telling Alec and I that he had been killed?”

Derek agrees, and Maryse has a long way to go before he’ll find her intimidating. “Your logic is terrible. As a werewolf, I was hardly leaving the boundaries of the shadow world.”

“You asked for the reason and I gave it to you. It’s not my fault if it doesn’t satisfy you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have duties I need to attend to.”

“No, you gave me a bullshit excuse that you hoped I would swallow. But the longer we talk, the less I think you’ll ever come up with something real.” He hits the end call button and sets the phone down on the end table. “Well, that was useless.”

“Holy shit, Derek.” Stiles looks stunned. “I’m beginning to think that it’s actually a _good_ thing she gave you away.”

Derek looks at Stiles, then at Izzy. He can smell the distress and anger rolling off her. “I wish she had given us all away.”

Izzy sighs. “One of us should go find Alec . . .”

“He’s just outside,” Magnus says, with a little wave of his hand. “Derek, if you’d like to go? I think he might like to have a moment in private with you.”

Derek nods and heads towards the door. He exits the loft to find Alec in the alley by the side of the building, pacing back and forth, his arms tight over his chest and his body looking so tense that it’s about to snap. He looks up as Derek comes outside, and can’t help but stare at him. Derek crosses his arms in a similar fashion without thinking about it and leans one shoulder against the wall so they’re facing. “I hung up on Maryse.”

Alec almost smiles at that. “Yeah, that’s the best way to deal with her. That, uh . . . that was actually the first time I’ve spoken to her in at least a month, probably more like two. She, uh . . . she doesn’t like Magnus, so . . .” His gaze flickers up to Derek’s face, like he’s assessing Derek’s reaction to the fact that he’s dating a warlock.

“Her judgment seems . . .” Derek stops to look for a word that won’t make him a liar but also won’t be incredibly rude. “Suspect.”

“She hates Downworlders. She’s also homophobic. So, I fell in love with a bisexual warlock, and she pretty much hasn’t talked to me since. Which I was upset about for the first few months, but after that I realized that I was actually much happier that way. So . . .” Alec presses his lips together. “Jesus. I can’t believe . . . I can’t believe you’re really here.”

“I’m still trying to wrap my brain around the fact that I have family still alive. I have Cora and I love her, but there were so many of us and now it’s just . . . just the two of us. It’s . . . I feel like I _should_ know you and it’s weird that I don’t.”

“Yeah. Weird is the word.” Alec tightens a little further. “And even if we could figure out which warlock took your memories, it won’t . . . won’t be the same as you having been here all these years.”

Derek shuffles a little closer. “No, but . . . we’re still family. Still pack. That already seems right.” Or at least, it would seem right if not for the fact that Alec looks and smells so tense that he’s clearly about to break something. Things were better after he had hugged Izzy, so Derek decides to try it. If he’s wrong, it’s early enough that he can plead ignorance. So he gets his arms around Alec’s shoulders and pulls him in for a hug that’s awkward as hell, but not bad.

After a minute of standing rigid in Derek’s embrace, Alec leans his forehead against Derek’s shoulder. “I can’t believe you’re here,” he says again, his hands clutching at the back of Derek’s shirt. “You, you’re so lucky that they took your memories. You don’t know how awful losing your twin is. You’re so lucky that you don’t know that.”

Derek relaxes as well. The hug feels familiar to him. “I don’t know what I was told back when I was adopted. And everyone who could tell me is dead now. Maybe I am lucky.”

“Yeah, what . . .” Alec pulls away and wipes a hasty hand over his eyes. “What happened to your adopted family?”

“They, uh . . .” Derek lets him go, although he’s not really eager for personal space. He doesn’t want to feel alone. “When I was fifteen, this psycho hunter set fire to our house. She mixed in enough mountain ash and wolfsbane that hardly anyone was able to get out.” His voice has gone flatly clinical. “Laura and I were away at school. Cora was able to get out, but she ran away, so I didn’t even know she had survived until this year.”

“Jesus,” Alec says. “That’s . . .” His voice trails off as he struggles for a word. He takes a deep breath. “You wanna go back in? I shouldn’t keep you from Izzy. She’ll kick the shit out of me.”

Derek nods. “She seems the type,” he says, and starts back up the steps to the loft. “My older sister Laura, she tried to find you guys once before. After the fire. But it was a dead end.”

“I guess if you hadn’t made it to Magnus, nobody would’ve recognized you,” Alec agrees.

Magnus overhears as they come in and gives Alec a sideways smile. “I would recognize that eye roll anywhere, dearest.”

“I’d ask if he’s always like this, but it’s pretty clear that he is,” Derek says to Alec.

Alec, for his part, is giving Magnus an open, honest smile as he leans in for a kiss. “I can’t believe you actually recognized my long-lost brother. That’s pretty impressive.”

“Joking aside, it wasn’t just the familiarity of looks. I could only think of a few reasons someone would not only send their werewolf child away, but have a warlock erase their memories to boot. As soon as he mentioned the cemetery, it clicked. Drink?”

“Please,” Alec says.

“It doesn’t help that Laura didn’t think to bring up the fuzzy memories when we came here after the fire,” Derek says, leaning against the wall. “But she was obviously having her own issues on top of trying to take care of me.”

“It might not have mattered. Luke wasn’t the alpha back then, and . . . well, let’s just say that he’s lived a complicated life, and he would have hesitated to contact me for a number of reasons. Safety being the primary.” Magnus hands a drink to Alec and then one to Derek. “So! Is anyone hungry? I find sharing a meal is always a good ice breaker.”

“I’m starved,” Stiles says.

Cora rolls her eyes at him. “We ate two hours ago.”

“We didn’t all live off beetles in the rainforest for six years!” Stiles shoots back. “I need sustenance.”

Cora tilts her chin up and takes on a superior air. “Some of them were the size of your overinflated head. And crunchy.” She looks him right in the eye. “Delicious.”

Alec looks between the two of them, then decides it’s better not to ask. “Order from that Thai place.”

“As you wish,” Magnus says with a wink.

Izzy is smiling at the newcomers and has watched the beetle discussion with interest. “So, you’re Derek’s younger sister! Is Stiles your boyfriend?”

Cora and Stiles simultaneously rear back. “What? No!” Cora sputters. She looks between Stiles and Derek and says, “That would be beyond weird.”

“Way beyond,” Stiles agrees. “No, I’m more like an auxiliary brother. Despite, you know, actually still having a living parent. My father. Who, now that I think about it, I haven’t called in like six _hours_ because so much has been going on and I, uh, I gotta do that like right now. ‘Scuse me.” Clutching at his phone, he hurries into the next room.

Izzy watches Stiles flail his way out of the room, and her eyebrows scrunch together. “Is he all right?”

“Sort of?” Derek offers, but then waves a hand. “Not really. A warlock tried to sacrifice his father in a revenge scheme not long ago and he’s still epically freaked out about it. Also, uh, he’s not my brother. Auxiliary or otherwise. That would be even weirder.”

“Mm _hm_ ,” Magnus says, with a glance at Izzy, who looks away before she can start laughing. Derek gives them both a withering look. Alec opens his mouth like he’s thinking about saying something, possibly even assuring his brother that being gay isn’t a crime, but then decides to drink more alcohol instead.

Cora rolls her eyes and says, “He came with us because he’s actually pretty good at figuring things out. He’s the one who figured out where the local pack’s den was.”

“Yeah, he’s too smart for his own good, has very little respect for the law, and even less respect for people’s privacy. It’s a pretty effective combination.”

Izzy takes Alec’s drink, takes a sip, and hands it back while he rolls his eyes. “Magnus, is there any way to jog memories into returning? Or are they gone forever even if you haven’t fed them to a memory demon?”

“Well, I don’t like to make assumptions about the quality of other people’s work,” Magnus says, as Stiles comes back into the room. “But if the warlock did a good enough job that he didn’t immediately recognize his own twin brother, then my guess is that getting them back from them is the only way it could be done.”

“So let’s find them,” Stiles says.

Derek shrugs. “I don’t think Maryse is going to give us much to work with. Or keep records that proved she lied about how dead I supposedly was.”

“Maryse already told us a few things,” Stiles points out. “That it was a he, for instance. That it was someone who knew your mother. It has to have been someone who lived around here at the time you were bitten, because I doubt she dragged you across the country first. Even in Beacon Hills, we’ve met how many actual warlocks? Two, three? There can’t be _that_ many possibilities.”

Derek turns to Magnus. “Do you have to be particularly powerful or talented to wipe someone’s memories?”

“That depends on how good a job you want done. Whoever did yours did a very good job, which means off the top of my head, I can only think of about a dozen warlocks I know who would be capable. Did you say you live in _Beacon Hills_? Because a lot of things just became clear to me.”

“What sort of things?” Derek asks suspiciously.

“Oh, well, the trauma, death, destruction, et cetera. I mean, you basically live on a Hellmouth.”

“I _knew_ it!” Stiles says.

“It’s a Nemeton, not a Hellmouth.” Derek looks quite put upon. “Great, now I’ll never get him to stop.”

Magnus shrugs, clearly unremorseful. “The Hellmouth was based on a Nemeton, so, there really isn’t much of a different. The only difference is that a Nemeton is less of a doorway and more of a magnet and a well. Practically, it comes to the same thing.”

“Our next project can be to try to destroy or contain it, but one thing at a time.”

Izzy nearly chokes on her drink. “Well, you certainly think big.”

Alec glares at her. “It’s a reasonable goal, if the Nemeton is attracting dangerous creatures.”

“Oh my God!” Stiles nearly throws his drink onto the ceiling as Alec and Derek glare in unison. “Don’t start glowering in synch! My heart can’t take that!”

Derek just rolls his eyes. “It’s not ‘dangerous creatures’ that I’m worried about. It’s the psychos. We’ve got a banshee in town and she doesn’t cause any trouble. We were fine on the werewolf front. The first disaster was a mundane hunter.”

“Don’t be pedantic,” Cora says, rolling her eyes. “A dangerous creature is a dangerous creature, regardless of what kind they are or why they’re in town.”

“Did you just tell Derek to stop being pedantic?” Stiles is snickering. “Might as well tell him not to breathe.”

Derek gives them his best obnoxiously insincere smile. “In that case, I could accommodate for about five minutes. Now can we get back to the subject at hand?”

“Warlocks,” Magnus says, nodding. “I can make a few calls. See if anyone remembers wiping a werewolf child’s memory for his psychotic parents about, what was it, fifteen years ago?”

“Yeah.” Derek turns to Stiles. “You read the adoption stuff in my file. Was there anything useful in it?”

Stiles shrugs. “Beyond the fact that your birth family lived in New York City and that the police hadn’t been able to contact them? That was just about the only thing in there.”

“You found us based on _that_?” Izzy sounds impressed, and Stiles puffs up despite himself.

“Well, and I remembered that my sister talked to a werewolf named Luke who was black and probably a cop, and that we met at a Chinese restaurant on a pier,” Derek says with a shrug.

There’s a pause as the food arrives. Alec goes down to get it while Magnus waves his hands around to conjure up some chairs and a dining room table large enough to fit everyone. Stiles watches in awe (and to be fair, Derek’s not unimpressed himself). Once they’re all sitting down, Izzy grins at the two of them and says, “So, how did you two meet?”

Stiles flushes and looks down, but Derek answers without missing a beat. “He was trespassing on my private property.”

“Mm _hm_ ,” Magnus says again, and Izzy starts laughing.

“What? No!” Derek protests.

Izzy just laughs harder. “Ignore Magnus. He won’t admit it but he’s such a troll.”

Derek scowls. Stiles clears his throat, grabs another container of takeout food, and says, “Besides, our story’s not that exciting, I just kind of stumbled into all this werewolf stuff. You guys hunt demons and conjure dining room tables and somehow have enough room for it in your loft even though I swear you didn’t when we came in here, so I want to hear about how _you two_ met.”

Magnus sighs and looks adoringly at Alec. “It was very romantic. He saved me from an assassin.”

Alec flushes pink and then looks down at his plate. “Then you threw a hissy fit and peaced out, leaving the rest of us behind to fend for ourselves.”

“Not my best moment,” Magnus agrees.

“Sounds like you win the award for ‘best first impression’,” Derek says to his brother.

“Why was someone trying to kill you?” Stiles asks, sounding inappropriately excited about this.

“Oh, he was trying to kill all of us, really,” Magnus says. “Warlocks, werewolves, vampires, et cetera. But don’t worry, he’s been quite thoroughly taken care of by now.”

“Awesome,” Cora deadpans. “More psychos.”

“Trust me, he won’t be causing anyone any problems,” Alec says. His gaze keeps darting over to Derek like he wants to check and make sure he’s still there.

Derek, who isn’t oblivious to those looks, decides to change the subject. “So I’m curious. Why were we playing in a cemetery?”

Alec shrugs. “Any time we weren’t studying or training for more than three minutes, Mom would throw the literal book at us. So if we wanted to actually have time to play, we had to try to avoid her. That meant playing in some weird places.”

“Maybe you should show it to me. See if any other memories surface.”

“Yeah, we should!” Izzy smiles and reaches over to squeeze Derek’s hand. “Plus you have to meet the cat. And Max! Oh my God, you don’t even – you have another brother! Two if you count Jace.”

“Must we?” Magnus murmurs, and Alec rolls his eyes.

“Is Jace a half-brother?” Derek asks.

“Jace is my parabatai,” Alec says, then hesitates. “But I guess you don’t know what that means. Uh, it’s a magical partnership. You know, we’re bound to fight together, have each other’s backs. Our parents adopted him when I was twelve, he was ten, after his dad died.”

Derek nods. “I guess I’m going to need some sort of remedial Shadowhunter class.”

“Me too!” Stiles says.

Alec pinches the bridge of his nose. “Mundanes aren’t even supposed to know we exist, but I guess it’s a little late for that.”

“Besides, he isn’t fully mundane,” Magnus comments. “He has the Sight, if nothing else.”

“So there,” Stiles says, sounding smug.

“Stiles, you’re not helping yourself here,” Derek says, shaking his head.

By the time the food is gone, it’s getting late, and Magnus clears the table with a wave of his hand and a sweep of blue flame. “So, where have you been staying?” he asks Derek.

“Uh, Kings Hotel,” Derek says.

Magnus gives an unfeigned shudder. “A _two star_ hotel? Not on my watch. You’ll have to stay here, of course.”

Stiles glances around the room somewhat nervously, thinking of the screaming nightmares he has every time he falls asleep for more than ten minutes. “Hey, I did a lot of research on the hotels in Brooklyn, Kings Hotel is fine, sure it’s cheap, but – it’s fine. Derek, tell him it’s fine.”

“It’s fine,” Derek says. It comes out a little wooden, so he tries to save it. “I’ve stayed in far worse.”

“Same,” Cora says. “The beetles and all.”

“Nonsense,” Magnus says. “What kind of a host would I be if I sent you back to such a place? Besides, the loft is far more convenient to the Institute – we hardly want to make you trek across town every time you want to see your siblings.”

Stiles sighs and resolves to stay up all night. “Well, okay. I guess if you insist.”

Derek gives Stiles a covert look, thinking that this isn’t going to go well, but there isn’t a lot he can do if Stiles is going to give in. “We should at least go grab some clean clothes, though.”

Magnus looks at him thoughtfully. “As much as I would love to dress you, alas, nothing I own would fit you. I’ll call a cab.”

“You can’t open another portal?” Stiles asks, curious.

“You can only portal to somewhere you’ve been before,” Izzy tells him, and then smirks as she adds, “and I’m sure Magnus wouldn’t be caught dead in a two star hotel.”

“And certainly not while living,” Magnus says as he pulls out his phone. “You know, when they first came up with that rating system, I suggested that everything below three stars be burned to the ground as unfit for habitation, but obviously I was ignored.”

Alec and Derek give him identical looks of skeptical amusement. Stiles frowns, waits until he’s off the phone, and says, “Wait, how old _are_ you?”

“Oh, I’ve witnessed the rise and fall of civilizations, cupcake,” Magnus tells him.

Alec coughs a cough that sounds suspiciously like, “Four hundred.”

Magnus gives Alec a scandalized look. “I _beg_ your pardon.”

Alec shrugs. “I figured that I would cut you off at the knees before you started trying to tell them about the time you had drinks with Plato.”

“Hmph. Get back to me when you’ve decided about Michelangelo, petal.”

Stiles thinks about it. “Yep. I’m gonna ask. What about Michelangelo?”

“He _claims_ to have had sex with Michelangelo,” Alec says, eyes narrowed at Magnus. “I think he’s just blowing smoke, though.”

Magnus smiles that little half smile. “But you don’t know for sure.” He blows Alec a kiss, which travels on faint blue magical smoke from his pursed lips.

“That is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” Stiles murmurs.

“Magnus, there are children here,” Izzy says, trying not to laugh.

“Nope,” Derek says, and heads for the door.

 

~ ~ ~ ~


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, how I've missed my messed-up boys. =D

 

Parting is a little awkward, but not terrible. Derek arranges to meet Alec and Izzy at the Institute the next day so they can show him around. When the taxi shows up to take them by the hotel, the Lightwood siblings leave. Izzy gives Derek a long, tight hug. Alec’s embrace is awkward and stilted, but goes on a lot longer than Derek would have expected.

They settle back at the loft, which somehow suddenly has enough guest rooms that they can each have one. Magnus says he has some business at the club to attend to, but to make themselves comfortable and he’ll try not to wake them when he gets in. Stiles makes a beeline for the bookshelves. “Look at all these,” he says, in a tone that’s somewhere between awe and glee.

Derek nods, and with the remembered assurance that Stiles is unlikely to be able to blow himself up, he pulls down several books for himself and settles on the sofa. Stiles sprawls out on the floor with his choices. Cora rolls her eyes at both of them, then goes to see if Magnus has anything as mundane as a coffee maker. If she’s learned anything about Stiles, it’s that he’ll want coffee sooner rather than later.

The warlock’s kitchen is a mishmash of modern appliances and things she doesn’t recognize, but she locates a French press and a kettle. That will be good enough; Stiles might prefer fancy beverages with names she can’t keep straight, but he also has no objection to plain black coffee when that’s what’s available.

“Are you going to try to sleep at all tonight?” Derek asks, as Stiles accepts the first cup of coffee. “Even a couple hours would be better than nothing.”

Stiles looks between the coffee, then the books, and sighs. “I guess if I’m gonna, I should try it before Magnus gets back.”

“The books will still be here. And I’ll stay up to wake you, if that helps.”

“Yeah, but what if you fall asleep?” Stiles considers for a few minutes, then says, “Nah, I’ll just stay up. I’ll be fine.” He downs a few swallows of the coffee and opens a book.

“Coffee isn’t going to help forever,” Derek says, but then lets it go. It’s a losing battle, at least for today. Besides, he can’t blame Stiles for not wanting anyone else to witness his nightmares.

They’re still reading when Magnus gets back, and the warlock is amused, but doesn’t comment on it, vanishing into his own room. He’s up early the next day – warlocks don’t need as much sleep as the average human – and comes out of the bedroom to find an amusing sight. Derek is lying on his back on the sofa with a book over his face. He’s leaning against Cora, who’s curled up in her wolf form, and they’re both sound asleep. Stiles, for his part, is sitting on the floor with six different books open, and he seems to be reading all of them at once. “You’re out of coffee,” he says to Magnus somewhat absently, as the warlock enters the room.

“That’s . . . impressive,” Magnus says, thinking of how much he’d had the night before.

Derek stirs as soon as he hears them talking. He rolls onto his side and his book hits the floor with a thump, jerking him awake. Seeing that it’s only Stiles and Magnus and everyone seems fine, he starts petting Cora between the ears, to soothe her back down into sleep.

“You wake too easily. I wanted to get a photo of that,” Magnus tells him, smirking.

“I’m sure you’ll get another chance,” Derek says, since falling asleep with a book on his face isn’t exactly unusual.

Stiles looks up at him, eyes red from the lack of sleep, but bright and alert from all the caffeine. “Dude. _Dude_. Did you know that there’s a charm to have your clothes shift with you? Like, you aren’t completely naked after you shift back? Your clothes just – poof – ” He vaguely waves a hand. “And then come back!”

Derek looks at Stiles and then at Magnus. “I need that. Right now.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Magnus says, his smirk turning into a genuine smile. “You’ve clearly got nothing to be ashamed of.”

Derek raises his eyebrows and says in a tone that’s drier than a desert, “We also don’t regrow things that have been removed, and it would be nice to switch forms during combat without fearing for things that we might want later.”

Stiles’ eyes glaze over and he stammers, “Uh . . . can I use your shower?”

“Feel free,” Magnus says, biting back a smile. Derek carefully doesn’t look at Stiles as he departs. Magnus appropriates Stiles’ abandoned mug of coffee and sinks gracefully into one of the armchairs. “So what’s going on between you two? Besides the boat load of unresolved sexual tension.”

“A rather large age difference,” Derek growls.

Magnus’ eyebrows go up. “You did hear the part about my being several centuries old, correct? I think I know quite a bit about ‘large age differences’. Trust me, puppy, they’re not insurmountable.”

“It’s not the difference in years, it’s the ages we’re at,” Derek says, trying to keep his temper, since this is apparently his brother’s boyfriend. “One of us is an adult and the other is a teenager. When there’s an age gap between two adults, it’s two adults making a decision. When that happens with an adult and a teenager, it’s an adult taking advantage of the situation.” He doesn’t even know why he’s telling Magnus this, aside from the fact that it might curb everyone’s knowing smiles. “Two years between you and Alec or two hundred, you’re still both adults.”

Magnus lifts his hands in surrender, his face having grown serious from the second sentence. “True love waits, you know,” he says. “He won’t be a child much longer, if he’s still one now, which frankly I doubt.”

“Well, I’m not interested in being the guy who finds out by fucking up and screwing him over for life.”

“That’s why I said ‘wait’,” Magnus says, and stands up. “You’re an angry little puppy, aren’t you. I suppose that’s understandable, all things considered. You know, Alec has a rune for ‘calm anger’ and I’ve never quite dared ask what circumstances led to that . . .”

“Maybe it’s because his mother is a giant bitch.”

“Certainly, but I feel there’s probably more to it than that. Especially since it’s on his back, so he couldn’t have drawn it himself.”

That stops Derek. “You don’t have to draw them yourself to be effective?”

“They have to be drawn by a Shadowhunter, but any Shadowhunter will do.” Magnus smiles. “I imagine you’ll learn more about it your remedial class. Speaking of which, I’ll see if Alec’s up for the day and ready to show you around the Institute.”

Derek nods. “Do you mind if we leave the books Stiles was going through out? If we don’t, he’ll just start on six new subjects, then halfway through he’ll go back to these and suddenly there will be twenty books on the floor.”

Magnus snorts in amusement and says, “It’s fine with me. Just don’t blame me if you trip over them.”

“This is nothing,” Derek says. “Trust me.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

Alec is pacing a track in the floor in the front hallway at the Institute, while Izzy watches him. “Will you please calm down?” she finally asks. “It’s going to be fine. What are you so nervous about?”

Alec shrugs and hunches his shoulders even tighter. He doesn’t want to talk about the real reason he’s nervous. He’ll be far happier if nobody ever finds out about the pit of dread in his stomach every time he thinks about what happened to his brother. If Magnus manages to find the warlock who took Derek’s memories, if Derek recovers them, he’s going to find out that it was Alec who suggested sneaking out the night Derek was turned – and Alec can’t imagine that he’s going to be happy about it. Since he doesn’t want to say that, he goes with his secondary problem. “It’s just weird. I don’t – know how to act around him. I feel like I should know him. But I don’t. He’s a stranger but he’s not.”

“Hey.” Izzy smiles up at her brother. “We’ll get to know him again. So stop hunching up like some turtle.” She starts poking him in the ribs until he’s uncrossed his arms so he can fend her off.

“I don’t know how you can just . . . roll with this so easily,” Alec says.

“Any time I start to get upset, I just imagine strangling Mother with her own ponytail.”

That gets a smile, but then Alec starts pacing again. “I just – I don’t know what to _say_ to him. I’m not good with people. Small talk with a complete stranger is like one of the lowest circles of hell for me.”

“He doesn’t seem that chatty either. For fraternal twins, you two were always so much alike,” Izzy adds with a laugh. “Anyway, it might be hard to get a word in edgewise past his not-a-boyfriend there.”

“Yeah, that’s true. I’ll just let that kid and Magnus do all the talking. And you. If you think I’ve been quiet too long, give me a signal. Tuck your hair behind your ears.”

“By the Angel, Alec, get a grip.”

Alec frowns. “So . . . that’s a no on the signal, then?”

Fortunately, before Izzy can answer, the door swings open and then Magnus steps through with Derek behind him. “Hello, darling,” Magnus says, stepping forward to greet Alec.

Alec gives him a brief, work-space-appropriate kiss. After their first liplock in the church, he’s tried to limit their PDA to avoid making anybody uncomfortable. “Hey, uh, hi. Hi, Derek.”

“Hello, Derek,” Izzy says with a smile.

“Hey,” Derek says. He doesn’t smile, but he does stop frowning, which is a definite improvement. He looks up at the interior of the cathedral that houses the Institute. “This isn’t really what I expected.”

Magnus claps his hands. “Well, I’ll leave you to your continued reunion. I have some actual business to attend to, and a few people to talk to, friends of friends, et cetera, to track down whichever warlock did the memory spell.”

“Oh, you don’t . . .” Alec gives Magnus an unhappy look, a frown tugging at his lips as he thinks about the less-than-pleasant memories that Derek had removed. Will his brother even still want anything to do with him after he remembers being attacked by werewolves? After remembering Alec’s suggestion that they follow their father on his mission? “You don’t have to, you know, it’s no big deal if you can’t find them. That was fifteen years ago now.”

Derek gives Alec a sideways look, then turns to Magnus. “You don’t have to, but I do appreciate it. As the person here who doesn’t remember.”

Alec flinches a little, but Magnus diverts the conversation, waving this aside to say, “Well, now that I can just post a message on the New York City Warlocks forum, it’s a _lot_ easier than it used to be. I’d have to polish the silver bowl I used for long-distance communication and burn incense for hours back in the old days.”

Derek considers this. “I can’t tell if you’re being serious, but on the off chance you are, and there really is a website full of warlocks, please don’t tell Stiles.”

“Yeah, where is Stiles?” Izzy interrupts brightly.

“He and Cora are off terrorizing tourist attractions,” Derek says. “Well, he’s terrorizing. Cora’s making sure he doesn’t walk into traffic.”

“Oh, so . . . it’s just us,” Alec says, and tells himself firmly not to panic. “Great. We can show you around.”

“Yeah.” Derek looks like he’s not sure what to do with this either.

Magnus leans in to kiss Alec on the cheek, then does the same with Izzy. “Good luck with them,” he murmurs into her ear, and she stifles a giggle. “I’m off, then, and also leaving,” he continues out loud with a wave before he heads out the door.

“So, uh . . . the Institute.” Alec looks around and nods. “This concludes our tour.”

Derek cracks a smile at that. “Was that the nickel tour or the dime tour?”

“More like the penny tour,” Izzy says, laughing quietly. “Come on, follow me.” She leads Derek on a brief tour of the Institute, showing him the training room and their equipment and nearly losing him entirely when they get to the library. Alec trails along behind them, hoping he doesn’t look as awkward as he feels. “Oh, we should take you to your old room! See if you get any memories back.”

Derek shrugs. “Can’t hurt. It’s strange to think I might still have things from a time I don’t even remember.”

“Yeah, uh . . . I don’t know what happened to your stuff from back then,” Alec says, looking away and rubbing a hand over the back of his head. “I guess I probably have some of it, but . . . we got rid of the rest.”

“No real reason to keep it, I guess. I mean, a few things, but . . . it doesn’t take a lot to remember somebody by.”

Izzy glances at Alec as if she’s about to say something, but then clearly changes her mind. “Come on, this way,” she says, starting down the hallway. “Though it’s somebody else’s room now, actually. I mean, it won’t look the way you remember it.”

“Well, since I don’t remember it at all . . .”

The room isn’t that exciting. It has a bed and a bureau and not much else. What draws Derek’s attention is at the end of the hallway, where an armchair is tucked in a corner along with a small table under a window. There’s a gray cat curled up on the chair, looking surly. Derek walks over and crouches down, shifting back on his heels, and holds out a hand. “You, I remember a little.”

The cat hisses.

“Oh, he remembers you too!” Izzy sounds like she’s about to cry.

Derek, who’s smart enough to hold still for the most part, glances over his shoulder to give her a look. “That’s what you call this?”

“Well, he didn’t bite, swat, or run away, so . . . yeah, actually,” Alec says. “That’s about as much affection as anyone ever gets from Church.”

“That’s not very smart,” Derek informs Church. “Who’s going to brush you if you do things like that?”

Church gives him the stink eye, then reaches out, bats Derek’s hand with one paw, and deliberately hisses again. Derek shrugs and says, “All right,” and scratches behind the cat’s ears. Church doesn’t precisely look happy about it, but he tolerates it.

Izzy is watching and resisting the urge to pull out her phone and start recording, when Jace jogs up behind them. “Hey, I’m back from – holy shit, are you _petting Church_?”

Derek looks up at the question but doesn’t stop the ear scritches. The cat is something solid, something real that he remembers, and he’s not letting go of that. “Yes. Obviously.”

Izzy beams at Jace. “This is our brother, Derek.”

“Oh, right, your brother.” Jace blinks. “Wait. What?”

“Remember the twin brother I had who got killed by a werewolf who I never talked about?” Alec asks, his shoulders hunching inwards. “Turns out that the whole ‘death’ thing was greatly exaggerated.”

“Mom had his memories erased and then shipped him off.” Izzy’s smile thins a little, but then blooms again. “Anyway! Derek, this is Jace.”

“Wow, that’s amazing,” Jace says, with genuine excitement. He reaches out for Derek’s hand to shake. “I can totally see it now, you two really look alike.”

Derek shakes it, cautious at first but loosening up. He can tell by the scent that Jace is close to Izzy and Alec, even if he’s not related to them. “Magnus seemed to think the same thing.”

“If you’re saying that because he hit on you, he does that to everyone,” Jace tells him.

“Except you,” Alec says, rolling his eyes.

Derek shakes his head. “No, not really. I just reminded him of Alec. Which is good, or we never would have figured anything out.”

“Yeah, I guess not. I mean . . . you don’t have any memories?” Jace is frowning. “Why would Maryse have done that?”

Alec opens his mouth, takes a deep breath, and closes it. He looks at Izzy, hoping she’ll have an actual explanation that doesn’t involve profanity.

“Because Mother is a – ” Izzy forces herself to stop. “Derek wasn’t killed by a werewolf, obviously, but he was turned.”

“Okay. So . . .?”

“So,” Alec snaps, “Mom didn’t want anyone ever finding out that she’d rather give her kid away than learn how to deal with having a werewolf for a son.”

“And let Alec and Izzy deal with the loss of a sibling.” Derek shrugs. “I haven’t met her . . . that I remember . . . but who does that to their kids?”

Jace is frowning slightly. “That doesn’t really sound like Maryse . . .”

“Jace,” Izzy says evenly. “She was a card carrying Circle member. It sounds exactly like her.”

“I just mean, the part where she lied to you guys, where she took your brother away from you, I mean . . .”

Alec looks up at the ceiling, tries to squash his temper, and fails miserably. “Just because you get everything you want because you’re her golden boy doesn’t mean that her treating me and Izzy like trash doesn’t happen. I just – oh my God, I can’t be here right now.” He turns and stalks away.

Derek just gives Jace a withering look and stands up to follow without thinking about it. It’s easy for him to follow Alec’s scent through the hallways and out the back, where he finds himself standing in the vaguely familiar cemetery. He sees Alec standing near the back and walks over to see a pale gray headstone that has the name Derek Lightwood on it. “Jesus. They gave me a _grave_?”

“Mom’s nothing if not thorough,” Alec mutters, sitting down next to it.

“Who or what did they bury?”

“How the hell should I know?” Alec snaps, but then rakes both hands through his hair and mutters, “Sorry.”

Derek shoves his hands into his pockets. “It’s creepy.”

“You don’t say.” Alec still doesn’t make any move to leave.

“How much time do you spend out here?”

“Lately?” Alec hunches up a little. “Not much. I come out here every once in a while, when I need to think. I used to come sit here a lot when I was a teenager, but eventually I just didn’t . . . that makes me sound like a dick, right? But I guess you can’t grieve forever.”

“You eventually start moving forward again,” Derek agrees quietly. “Whether you mean to or not. Even if you dig your heels in against it.”

“But then something makes you stop and remember it and suddenly it’s like the scab’s just torn off and it hurts just as much as it did when it happened.”

Derek nods and says nothing.

“Jace isn’t a bad guy, you know,” Alec says, after a minute of silence. “He’s just a little oblivious sometimes. I guess it’s kind of hard to explain. He was just always so good at, at everything. All the things that Shadowhunters are expected to be good at come naturally to him. So he’s everybody’s golden boy who can do no wrong. My mother’s loved him more than me since we were thirteen.”

“And he doesn’t even know it, huh?” Derek shakes his head. “Nothing against Jace, but it really sounds like I disappointed the fuck out of Maryse so she went out to find the perfect son to take my place.” Derek sinks down into the grass. “Which just seems like the bitchiest action possible, since I have a fucking twin.”

“Well, it’s not like they went down to the supermarket and picked one out,” Alec says. “Jace’s dad died, and he was my dad’s parabatai, and . . . I don’t know. A lot happened, I guess.”

“I won’t blame Jace if I hit the roof over it after I get my memories back. We’ll call that good enough.”

“Sure.” Alec rests his arms on his knees. “I’d say that, you know, I wish that she’d given us both away . . . but then I never would have met Magnus. Which . . . I’d go through a lot to have him in my life, you know?”

Derek nods and says, “He’s head over heels for you.” He clearly finds that somewhat reassuring, perhaps even heartening. It’s a reminder that love is a real thing and it can still work out.

“Yeah, and he’s the least subtle person on the planet, too.” Alec has a fond little smile on his face. “I mean, he has no chill whatsoever. I wasn’t very good at hiding how I felt, either, no matter how hard I tried. Pretty much everyone knew: my parents, my sibs, my fiancé . . .”

Derek nods again to show that he’s listening, then does a double take. “Fiancé?”

“Oh, wow, yeah. You don’t know anything about that.” Alec gives a quiet little laugh. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go out and get some coffee and I’ll tell you about the time your gay brother almost married a woman.”

That gets a real laugh out of Derek. “Okay. Sounds like fun.”

There’s a coffee shop down the street from the Institute where Alec obviously goes often, if the smile and the ‘hey, where’s Magnus’ is any indication. Alec isn’t exactly friendly, but he doesn’t glower at them, either. They just get their drinks and find a table in the corner, and Alec starts telling Derek about Lydia, the politics of the Clave, the opportunity to run the Institute together. “I mean, it was like, have you ever _known_ you’re throwing yourself headfirst at a brick wall, but for some reason you just can’t stop yourself?”

“Yeah. Oh yeah. It’s like you don’t know what else to do, and you know that this is going to hurt like hell but at least you know where you’re headed and what kind of pain you’re in for.”

Alec’s lips twitch a little. “So I’m literally standing at the altar, and it turns out that Izzy had _invited Magnus_.”

Derek’s eyebrows go up. “I’m clearly going to have to keep an eye on her.”

“Truth. She does what she thinks is best and damn the consequences.” Alec takes a drink of his coffee. “And that is how I wound up making out with a guy in the aisle at what was supposed to be my wedding.”

“How’d Lydia take it?”

“Pretty well. I mean, like I said, I was fooling nobody, so it wasn’t like she was surprised. She still runs the Institute, and we’re pretty good friends now. You have to admire a woman who can stand in a wedding dress and tell the guy who’s supposed to be marrying ‘you deserve to be happy’ before turning him loose on his would-be-boyfriend.”

“She sounds like someone I’d like.” Derek fiddles with his mug. “Which is better than having to find friends on my own. You might have guessed already, but I’m not very good at it.”

Alec shrugs. “Must be genetic. For years I barely spoke to anyone who wasn’t Izzy or Jace. Hell, I still barely speak to anyone who isn’t Izzy, Jace, or Magnus. And I’m pretty sure the whole thing with Magnus only happened because he felt some bizarre connection to me and declared himself the one for me on, like, the day we met. Which I guess is less bizarre in retrospect, since he was right.”

“There was a brief period of my life when I was outgoing, but I’m also pretty sure that I was a dick, so it probably wasn’t a good choice.”

“Anyway, my mother’s barely spoken to me since my non-wedding, so you kind of showed up in the middle of an ongoing feud.” Alec gives another shrug, hunching his shoulders together. “Some days I’m upset about that, some days I’m not. It sort of depends on what else is going on.”

“Sorry about the timing,” Derek says, half-joking. “It seemed like it was a good idea for us to get the hell out of there before more drama could start, you know?”

“Yeah.” Alec finishes his coffee and leans back in his chair. “Okay. Your turn. Tell me about Stiles.”

“Heh. Stiles.” Derek starts ticking things off on his fingers. “Doesn’t know when to stop. Doesn’t know how to stay safe. Doesn’t know how or when to shut up, isn’t capable of holding still, is a complete smartass, far smarter than anyone imagines, devious as hell, and has an amazing way of coming through when you need him, against all reason.”

“Wow.” Alec grins despite himself. “And I thought Magnus had zero chill. You’ve got like . . . negative chill.”

Derek tips his head back and looks up, hoping for divine intervention. Then it occurs to him that technically, divine intervention might be sitting across the table from him. “Look, he’s seventeen. And that’s an issue. A huge issue. For me. But aside from that, Stiles is kind of an unstoppable force. You should learn that, for your own safety. He once drove a Jeep through a warehouse wall so he could run over a kanima. Think about that.”

Alec rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “For my own safety, I will keep that in mind. For _your_ safety, you should know that Magnus is kind of the same way. Uh, I’ll try to keep him out of your business. I just can’t actually promise that I’ll succeed.”

There’s a moment of silence. “Look,” Derek finally says, his hands curled around his mug and his gaze fixed on the table. “Did you ever do anything, when you were a teenager, make choices thinking of _course_ you were old enough, adult enough to handle those choices? And then find out you were wrong?”

“Honestly? No.” Alec sighs. “Mom made pretty much every choice for me, and would still be doing it if I hadn’t finally gotten away from that.”

“I sort of wish I’d had that. I made one of those mistakes and now my entire second family, you know, the one who took me in, they’re all dead except Cora. And Peter, who’s fucked off somewhere. And I’m not saying that Stiles is going to hurt anyone. You know, unless they deserve it. But I don’t want anything between us to be a mistake.”

“Okay, and that all makes perfect sense to me, honestly,” Alec says, “but have you told _him_ that?”

“No.” Derek gives Alec a defensive look. “There hasn’t really been a good time, what with all the running and fighting and sometimes screaming and shooting and definitely murdering.”

“You’re going to fit right in around here,” Alec says with a snort. “Magnus’ outrageous flirting messed with my head, but I guess I should be glad I had him around to take the lead. It’s not like I knew what the hell I was doing.”

“Izzy must have gotten the social skills gene.”

“Well, you’ve seen how my mother deals with people . . .”

“Yeah, she’s not . . . pleasant.”

Alec arches an eyebrow. “You don’t have to be nice about it. You can’t say anything that Magnus and Izzy haven’t both already said, at varying levels of volume and profanity.”

“That doesn’t mean you want to hear it.”

“That’s what Magnus said at first. He always tried to be polite about it. But I actually like hearing people badmouth her, because . . . for a long time, I thought she was normal and I deserved to be treated that way, you know?” Alec ducks his head, not looking at his brother. “People calling her a bitch makes me remember that it’s her, not me.”

“Got it. And no, it isn’t you. If she was the alpha of a pack and acted like that, she’d be overthrown.”

“Well, that’s basically what happened to her here, just with more bureaucracy.” Alec shakes his head. “I still – still can’t get over you being here. Being alive. I just – it’s like there’s a part of me that still can’t believe it.”

“I’m still trying to wrap my mind around the idea that I haven’t family that isn’t dead. It’s . . . I’d gotten used to the idea that it was just me and Cora.”

“It’s weird for werewolves not to have a pack, isn’t it?” Alec says, and Derek nods. “Shouldn’t you try to find one? Or make one?”

“We can’t. We don’t have an alpha. Besides, last time I tried . . . it didn’t go well.”

“Oh.” Alec hunches inwards again. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s not your fault. It’s just like, everything I try gets fucked up. I tried to build a pack and two of them died and I drove off my last beta to protect him.” Derek has to swallow the lump in his throat as the memories of Boyd and Erica hit him right in the gut. He tries so hard not to think about it most of the time, but sometimes it creeps up on him. Panic suddenly twists his gut. “Everything I touch just  leads to disaster. I hope that I didn’t just accidentally kill all of you just by showing up here. Jesus, what was I thinking?”

“Hey. Hey!” Alec reaches out and grabs Derek by the back of the neck in a firm grip. “Listen to me. No matter what happens, I’m glad you came back. Even if there is some sort of curse on you and I get hit by a bus tomorrow, I’m still – I’m still really glad you’re here. Okay?”

“Why?” Derek asks, incredulous despite himself. “You sound like things are going pretty well for you. Like you’re going to be happy. Why risk trading any of that to meet someone who can’t remember you and most likely is going to destroy everything because apparently that’s what I do. Maryse probably did you all a favor getting rid of me.”

“Because you’re my _brother_ ,” Alec says. “Because you might not remember me, but I remember you, and I _missed_ you.”

Derek stares at him for a minute, then just nods. It’s not so much of an agreement as it is an acknowledgement that he heard Alec’s words.

“Come on,” Alec says. “We should get back to the Institute. Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.” Derek heaves a sigh. They start to walk in silence. “Sorry I lost my shit.”

Alec shrugs. “We’ve all lost our shit on occasion. And, uh, I don’t want to push for details if you don’t want to talk. But whatever happened to your family, to your pack . . . it wasn’t your fault.”

Derek snorts. “I’ve already freaked out. I don’t see how it could get much worse.” Then he sighs. “Kate still would have tried to kill everyone eventually, but . . . without me, she wouldn’t have known all the escape routes we had. She wouldn’t have been able to keep everyone in. So it basically is my fault.”

“Why are you so convinced that she wouldn’t have found another way to get that information?”

“There was no one else that would have been . . . manipulated the way I was.”

“So what?” Alec shrugs. “Look, I don’t know a lot about how to kill werewolves, but it’s not like there’s only one way. Maybe she would have found another way. The point is, you don’t know. Maybe it would’ve been different, maybe it wouldn’t have. Either way, you said you were only fifteen. If you didn’t know better, that wasn’t your fault. You were a kid.”

“I was an idiot,” Derek finally says.

“Yeah, maybe. But that’s a lot different from being a murderer.” Alec glances down as his phone chimes and grabs it. “Looks like Magnus is back at the Institute. Guess we should see what he found out.”

Derek nods. Once they’re moving again, he glances over at Alec, then away. “Thanks.”

Alec shrugs. “No big deal. We’re Lightwoods. We bottle up our emotions and then lose our shit. It happens.”

“Yeah, in that, I was never anything like the Hales.”

“You’ll have to tell me about them. But first I guess we should see where Magnus is at.” Alec tries not to betray his own turbulent emotions. Wherever Magnus is, if he’s found the warlock who took Derek’s memories, then their brotherly reunion might be over long before he’s ready. He shoves his hands down into his pockets and hopes that fate will let him have a little bit more time.

 

~ ~ ~ ~


	5. Chapter 5

 

Alec pushes open the door of the Institute and heads inside. He finds Magnus in his rooms, wearing a uniquely irritated expression, and can’t help but grin. “I take it that Jace decided to come say hi?”

“Jace gets his very own expression?” Derek thinks about his meeting with Jace. “Actually . . .”

“Magnus loves Jace,” Alec says, very seriously.

“Come over here and kiss me as a reward for not turning him into a hat rack,” Magnus tells him. Alec gives a snort of laughter, but does as instructed.

Derek waits until he isn’t interrupting their reward system before saying, “Can you actually do something like that? Can Stiles? If so, please don’t tell him.”

Magnus snorts. “I can . . . although I shouldn’t,” he adds with a sigh, and then a wink towards Alec. “Stiles cannot. His seelie blood seems fairly diluted; it would surprise me if he could do anything more than some basic magic.”

“Yeah, well, he’ll take any loophole or advantage available and exploit it to the fullest,” Derek says, his voice colored by just a hint of pride.

“So I’ve seen.” Magnus sounds amused. “Well, do you want to hear what I’ve found?”

“Not really,” Alec mumbles.

Derek cuts a look Alec’s way. “Yes.”

“Out of the thirteen possibilities, I have managed to eliminate four,” Magnus says, delivering this news as if it’s of great importance.

“Ooooooookay,” Derek says, clearly waiting for more.

There’s a moment of awkward silence. Magnus says, “Well, you’re welcome. This isn’t easy, jokes about online forums aside, many of these people are quite difficult to locate and have absolutely no interest in talking to me about anything, let alone something sketchy that they might or might not have done fifteen years ago.”

Derek holds his hands up in surrender. “You’re right. Thank you for the help; I appreciate it.”

Alec, feeling momentarily giddy with the relief that Derek won’t be getting his childhood memories back right away, teases, “He’s just upset because he’s thinking about how Stiles would have gotten it done already.”

“Let’s not set Stiles up against a bunch of recalcitrant warlocks,” Derek says, but he’s smiling. “Remember how I said he drove through a wall? Let’s leave Stiles ‘I have a baseball bat’ Stilinski until later.”

Magnus gives a snort. “I’ll make you no promises, Derek, but believe me, if anybody in New York can find the warlock who stole your memories, it’s me.”

“And he’s so modest about it, too,” Alec muses.

“Please, you find my confidence to be devastatingly attractive.”

“That I do,” Alec says, giving Magnus a look that shows exactly how much.

“I’ll just leave you two alone,” Derek says, amused despite himself.

Alec tears himself away from Magnus’ gaze. “Uh, sorry, yeah. Izzy can show you . . . something. I’m sure there’s a room or something you haven’t seen. Or she can just talk to you. She’s good at that. She loves talking.”

Derek rolls his eyes and leaves the room without another word.

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

“So,” Magnus says about an hour later, leaning up to kiss the underside of Alec’s jaw, “are you going to tell me what you’ve got yourself all twisted in knots about, or am I going to have to magic it out of you?”

“You wouldn’t,” Alec says, rolling his eyes.

“No,” Magnus agrees, running his fingers over Alec’s lips. “I won’t. But I also won’t let it go, either.”

“It’s not like you don’t already know. Dead brother turning up, Mom being even more of a psycho bitch than usual. I’m not entitled to a little internal conflict over this?”

Magnus rolls over and props himself up on his elbows. “Certainly, but then you would simply be tense about it in general. You’re actively becoming more or less tense depending on how likely it is for his memories to be returned.”

“What? No, I don’t,” Alec says, then grimaces at how unconvincing he knows that sounded.

“Alexander,” Magnus says, his tone both amused and slightly cajoling.

“Okay, fine.” Alec sits up, pulling away from Magnus. “I don’t want him to get his memories back. There. Are you happy now?”

“No. Of course not. You aren’t happy, so I’m not happy. My purpose isn’t to pry. It’s to help.”

Alec heaves a sigh. “I just – I know that Derek really wants his memories back, but – he’s just going to be disappointed by them. He thinks we had this happy childhood and he’s immediately going to feel some connection with me but that’s not – that’s not what’s going to happen.”

“I think he’s aware that Maryse didn’t allow anyone a happy childhood.” Magnus sits up and rearranges himself so he’s sitting next to Alec with his legs tucked up underneath himself. “But I do think he’s looking for a connection with you. Did the two of you not get along?”

“No, we did. We do. We do now. Can’t he just leave it at that?”

Magnus considers this. “Apparently not. But imagine missing part of your life, having a blank there. Also consider _what_ he is, petal.”

“What does him being a werewolf have to do with anything?”

“He’s without a pack. Family is the sort of connection he’s reaching for. You obviously care very deeply for him, and he can tell. But he doesn’t feel the same way yet, because while you remember him, he doesn’t remember you. If he can regain his memories, he can have that connection.”

“If he regains his memories, he won’t want it,” Alec snaps, then looks away, flushing pink.

Magnus blinks in surprise. He thinks of several things to say, discards them, and finally settles on, “Why not?”

“Because it’s my fault,” Alec says raggedly. “All of it was my fault. It was my idea to sneak out that night. To go after my dad. I’m the reason he got bitten, got kill – ” His voice breaks and he quickly looks away again.

Magnus reaches out and turns Alec’s face towards him, watches him blink back tears. “He was not killed. You were lied to. You made a mistake, yes. Children do. But it was not your mistake that separated you or made you think he had died.”

“But it was my mistake that got him hurt. That got him sent away. If he knew that, he’d . . . he’ll hate me.”

“I highly doubt that. For starters, it might have been your idea, but I hardly think you bullied him into anything. So you both made a childish mistake. Maryse is the one who sent him away, and cut off contact. There are wolf packs here in the city. There are other packs close enough that you could have visited. Even in California, there are warlocks and portals and _telephones_. She chose to cut you off.”

“But he got hurt because of me.” Alec chokes the words out, staring at Magnus, unable to figure out why Magnus couldn’t understand this. “He got _hurt_ because of _me_.”

“Oh, Alexander.” Magnus pulls Alec against his shoulder, trying to think of some way to explain that Derek will care about so much more than which one of them suggested sneaking out that night.

Alec presses his face into Magnus’ shoulder. “Everything that happened to him after that – him getting sent away, his family getting killed – other people made choices too, but it all goes back to that. It all – goes back to the fact that I didn’t follow the rules and he got hurt.”

Magnus continues to hold him, and places a kiss in his hair. “I’m going to ask you a question and I want you to think before you answer. All right?”

“All right,” Alec says, wiping his eyes with one impatient hand.

“Imagine you’re ten years old and you sneak out with your brother to follow your father on a mission. And something goes horribly wrong. Your brother is bitten by a werewolf, but he survives. He’s hurt, yes, but he’ll heal. He’s a werewolf now instead of a Shadowhunter, but he’s alive, and he’s still your brother.” Magnus runs a gentle thumb underneath Alec’s eye, wiping away one of the few tears that has escaped. “What do you learn from this?”

Alec has to stop and take a deep breath before he manages a wan smile. “Sneaking out was really, really stupid?”

“Yes, exactly.” Magnus smiles. “Some lessons carry their own consequences and teach lessons all on their own. No one needs to come in behind them and drive those involved to their knees with remorse. So no. It doesn’t all go back to you, my love. It goes back to your parents, and how they couldn’t stand to have a werewolf son.”

Alec is quiet for a long minute before he finally says, “What if Derek doesn’t see it that way? What if he hates me?”

“Then I’ll have a similar conversation with him to convince him of why he is an ass,” Magnus says, and Alec gives a little snort. “But I don’t think he will.”

“I thought . . .” Alec pulls away and lets out a shuddery breath. “All these years, I thought he was dead because of me.”

Magnus winces. “Oh, petal, that explains so much. I’m so sorry that you’ve lived with that all this time.”

“I never told anyone.” Alec swallows hard. “Nobody knew except me and my parents. I thought if Izzy knew, she’d never speak to me again, so I just never said anything.”

“I’m glad you trusted me enough to tell me. To let me help.” Magnus took Alec’s hands in his own and gave them a squeeze. “I’ll certainly never share what you tell me in confidence, but I don’t believe Isabelle would hate you.”

“Probably not. Mom did, though.” Alec can’t quite look at Magnus. “Every time she looked at me, I could see her blaming me for what happened to him.”

“Ultimately, Maryse is what happened to him. She’s the one who chose to lose a son to her own prejudice. That was her doing, not yours.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Alec lets out a sigh, but he seems to actually be relaxing a little. “Maybe it would have been better if she had sent me away, too.”

At that, Magnus leans in for a kiss. “It might make me terribly selfish, but I don’t wish to contemplate a life in which I was not able to meet you.”

Alec turns to him and gives him a shy smile. “I was saying that to Derek earlier, actually. That it might have been better that way, but I didn’t want to have not met you.”

Magnus smiles back, bright and sweet and frankly somewhat sappy. Alec leans in and kisses him twice, slow and gentle, before pulling away. “Do you think I should tell him? I mean . . . maybe it would be better if I told him before he got his memories back.”

There’s a pause while Magnus considers. “I think you should, mostly because keeping it a secret might be an issue later. Not the incident itself, but that you didn’t trust him enough to tell him.”

“Ugh. I thought that’s what you were going to say.” Alec slumps backwards and drags a pillow over his face.

“Alexander, you cannot smother yourself,” Magnus says, taking the pillow away from him.

“I wasn’t trying to smother myself. I was just hiding.” Alec presents this as if it’s a perfectly reasonable thing to do.

“Ah. Well, then, carry on.” Magnus drops the pillow over his face, then leans down to press a kiss against Alec’s hip. “Are you going to hide all day, or are we going to find . . . more worthwhile pursuits?”

Alec groans. “You’re incorrigible.”

“And that, petal, is one of the many reasons why you love me.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

After dinner, the group of them head back to Magnus’ loft except for Izzy, who’s on call at the Institute. They sit around talking until late, while Derek and Cora tell stories about their early lives in Beacon Hills. Alec listens eagerly, sprawled out across Magnus’ lap while Magnus plays with his hair. Around midnight, they finally call it quits. Magnus’ loft has obligingly provided a guest room with two beds, and Derek and Cora curl up on one while Stiles is sprawled out with four separate books and a little ball of witchlight that Magnus had made for him.

When Derek wakes up the next morning, he’s surprised to find that Stiles is asleep. He’s so startled that he just sits there and blinks at the teenager, who’s sprawled out on top of the blankets and drooling unattractively. It looks like he decided to just lie down for a minute, passed out, and had slept in the same position all night.

He decides to leave him sleeping, and gets dressed. Magnus is already up, and he’s dressed in a silk bathrobe and looking surprisingly surly. Alec is there, too, and he’s bent over the coffee maker. He smiles when he sees his brother. “Hey, uh, good morning.”

“Morning. You get to enjoy the coffee this morning instead of fighting Stiles for it.” He leans a hip against the counter. “He’s still asleep.”

“Is that . . . unusual?” Alec asks, brow furrowing slightly.

Derek nods. “He doesn’t sleep well, when he sleeps at all, so I’m just going to leave him be.”

“Well, not that you’ve asked, but I slept terribly.” Magnus sounds more petulant than anything else. “Someone or some _thing_ was drilling on my wards all night, trying to get through. It was exhausting.”

Derek has to bite back a smile at the centuries-old warlock sounding like a child missing their morning cartoons. “Does that happen often?”

“Occasionally someone will try to get in, but this is quite persistent,” Magnus says. “But very, hm, metaphysical? It isn’t as if there’s a troll banging on the front door. I’m not sure what it is. Which vexes me. I am very vexed.”

“Which is why I’m making him pancakes,” Alec tells Derek, “in the hopes that he will stop using the word ‘vexed’.”

That makes Derek smirk. “Are you susceptible to bribes of food?”

“No.” Now Magnus is definitely sulking. “But _someone_ won’t bribe me with anything better at the moment.”

Alec flushes pink up to the tips of his ears. “I am not doing anything with you while there’s a sixteen year old sleeping in the next room. That doesn’t make me a prude. It makes me a sensible person.”

“Oh my God,” Derek mumbles. “He’s seventeen. Don’t make him even younger than he is.”

Alec snorts. Magnus rolls his eyes and says, “Besides, I’ve told you, I know perfectly serviceable silencing spells – ”

“Please stop,” Alec says, muffling his face in his hands.

“I’m with him,” Derek says, and sets about looking for coffee mugs. Magnus just wrinkles his nose and sits down at the long dining room table, clearly ready to let Alec pamper him.

About ten minutes have passed, and they’re just starting on their pancakes, when Magnus suddenly looks at the ceiling and says, “Oh, it stopped finally, thank goodness.” He let his head tilt backwards as if he’s letting the tension drain out. “Now I have much more of an appetite.”

Just a minute later, Derek hears Stiles up and moving around. “Pour any coffee you want for yourself now.”

Magnus looks up sharply. “Stiles is awake?”

Derek nods once. “Yeah. Why?”

“Do you happen to know what time he fell asleep?”

“After me, which was around midnight,” Derek says, frowning.

Magnus’ frown deepens. He’s just risen from the table when Stiles comes out of the bedroom, yawning prodigiously. “You. What is trying to eat you?”

“Uh . . . huh?” Stiles asks, blinking.

Derek hands Stiles his mug of coffee, figuring he can get a new one later. “What?”

“Something is not right with you. It’s been bothering me, nagging at the edge of my senses, but what happened while you slept, that was different.” Magnus snaps his fingers and produces a shower of blue sparks that bounce around the room. “Something was trying to get in. It only stopped when you woke.”

“That’s . . . disconcerting,” Stiles says, watching the sparks nervously as Derek starts to edge closer to him.

“I don’t suppose you’ve taken part in any strange rituals lately?” Magnus asks. “Happenings of unearthly origin? Anything else of dubious nature?”

Stiles blinks at him. “You mean like . . . the time when my father had gotten kidnapped by a homicidal witch and was being held captive at a creepy magic tree and in order to find him I let a veterinarian drown me in a tub of ice water?”

Magnus pinches the bridge of his nose like he feels a headache coming on. “Yes. Like that. Follow up questions are coming.” He pushes out a chair and gestures. “Sit. Let’s talk.”

Looking somewhat nervous, Stiles sits down in the chair across the table from Magnus and picks up his mug of coffee, turning it around in his hands. “Wait, so, your wards are the reason I actually slept last night instead of having screaming nightmares the whole time?”

“So I would assume,” Magnus says.

“Oh.” Stiles blinks twice, then looks at Derek. “Okay, I, uh, I’m moving in. I live here now.”

Derek considers for a few moments, thinking back on the last week and how horrible it's been. “Okay. That seems reasonable.”

Alec rubs both hands over his face and casts an appealing look at Magnus, who has to bite back a smile. “I don’t think that will be necessary. Whatever’s left you so attractive to possession can most likely be fixed. Thus the further questions. This magic tree. Was it a Nemeton?”

“Uh, yeah. How’d you know?”

“Nemetons, rare as they are, are usually formed from natural objects. Trees, for example, or caves.”

“Okay . . .?” Stiles clearly doesn’t see how this is relevant.

Magnus closes his eyes and takes a calming breath. “Tell me about this witch and this . . . veterinarian.”

“Well, the witch, not a lot to tell. She wanted revenge on this crazy alpha, so she started killing people, blah, blah, five fold knot, et cetera. She needed to do the last three together for . . . some reason . . . so she kidnapped my dad and a couple other people and was holding them hostage, but she was waiting for the eclipse because . . . I don’t know. It made sense at the time. I think.” Stiles chews on his lower lip and looks to Derek to verify that yes, this had made sense.

“At the time, yes. Relatively speaking,” Derek says.

“And the veterinarian?”

“Uh, he’s a Druid, I think. Knows a lot of stuff. The ritual was a surrogate sacrifice thing to connect us to the Nemeton so we would know where my dad was being held.”

“Did he happen to talk about breaking the connection to the Nemeton afterwards?”

Stiles rubs a hand over the back of his head. “Well, no. He said we’d have to fight the darkness for the rest of our lives. It was totally worth it, though.”

Magnus’ jaw tightens. “Of all the irresponsible, foolhardy . . .” He pushes back from the table and stands in one fluent move. “Come with me.”

“Uh, sure? Where are we going? Can we go back to the part where something was trying to break into the loft? Because I’m still not sure what’s going on.”

“We are going to my work room, cupcake. The thing trying to break into my loft was trying to break into _you_ , I strongly suspect. Leaving you connected to the Nemeton has left you vulnerable, and we are going to fix that problem.” He walks across the loft and folds back one of the ornate accordion dividers that he has up.

Stiles looks nervously at Derek, who shrugs but stands up to follow. Alec follows them as well, saying, “He does actually know what he’s doing. I mean, he’s one of the most powerful warlocks in the country.”

“In the world, dearest,” Magnus says, as he leads them into a small room that has a stone floor and walls. He begins flipping through one of several old books on a table tucked off to the side. “Clary’s assistance would be most useful right now, but I guess it can’t be helped.” He holds the book open and spins to look at Stiles, his dressing gown flaring out. “How are your artistic capabilities?”

Stiles chokes on a laugh. “Once I tried to draw a still life in art class and I got sent to the principal’s office because my banana was too phallic and nobody believed I had done it by accident . . . is that the type of capability you’re looking for?”

“Alas, this will not be _that_ sort of spell.” Magnus sighs, a touch dramatically, and Alec rolls his eyes. “I’ll just have to do it myself.” He lets go of the book and it floats to the floor, supported by writhing blue flames. He turns back to the table and pulls out a boxed set of chalks. “Can you at least manage a figure eight?”

“For you, I will manage a figure nine,” Stiles says. “But, uh, before we get going with . . . whatever is happening . . . would it be a good time to mention that I’m not the only one who got drowned? I don’t want you to have to do this more than once if you don’t have to.”

Magnus practically face palms, and then looks at the ceiling as if praying for patience. “Tell me about these other people involved.”

“Uh, there were three of us. You know, because there were three captives. My bestie, Scott, he’s a werewolf. He was a beta then, but he’s an alpha now. If that matters. And Allison. She’s just human, uh, mundane I guess you would call her. And, uh, there was this whole thing about us possibly already being tied to the Nemeton by fate? I don’t know, that was from the trippy visions we had so I can’t vouch for the accuracy.”

Magnus nods as he settles on the floor with the chalk, drawing a large and improbably perfect circle but leaving it open at the top. “Then while they will both need their connections broken as well, you’re the most likely target. When a demon or spirit is looking for a host to possess, to interact with the physical world, Downworlders of mixed heritage are the most desirable targets. Mundanes are easier to possess but have no innate power to use. Pure beings such as werewolves, vampires, and full blooded fae are excellent, but have stronger natural defenses. Part fae or weaker warlocks are the best of both worlds.”

“Oh. Okay.” Stiles watches him draw. “I just figured, if we could do it all at once, you wouldn’t have to draw that thing three times. So I could have been possessed. That . . . that’s super. I need to sit down.”

“There’s plenty of floor for your use.” Magnus steps into the circle and begins drawing a vine-like knotwork in the center. “Tell me about your Druid,” he adds, partly to keep Stiles occupied and also to see if there’s anything he needs to handle.

“Uh, I don’t know what I can tell you that might be useful. I mean, he’s a veterinarian. He taught me how to use mountain ash, he knows a lot about werewolves? I think he used to be like an advisor to Derek’s mom. He’s cryptic as fuck. I guess you might know him, anyway, his name is Alan Deaton. Oh, I might have a pic. I think I have a picture of him and Scott on my phone somewhere.”

These details, as slim as they are, don’t make Magnus feel much better. “Yes, a picture would be helpful.”

“Hang on.” Stiles swipes for a small eternity before he manages to find it. “Here he is. With Scott, my bestie who’s a werewolf.”

Magnus leans over. “Alan Change, you shady motherfucker.”

Stiles barks out a laugh at hearing those words from the elegant warlock. “Tell me how you really feel.”

“Darling,” Magnus calls over to Alec, “a hypothetical question.”

“Whatever it is, no.”

Magnus shrugs. “All right. I’ll just continue to let the warlock continue to behave poorly, unchecked,” he teases.

Alec rolls his eyes. “What.”

“Hypothetically, do you think knowingly leaving a mundane open to possession breaks the Accords?” Magnus asks, still working with the chalk.

Alec thoughtfully chews on his lower lip. Finally, he says, “I don’t think so. Inviting or arranging a possession, yes, but just leaving someone open? No. Plus it would be almost impossible to prove he did it knowingly.”

Magnus opens his mouth to make a point, then decides against it and sighs dramatically instead. “I guess I’ll just have to handle his behavior with less politic threats, then.”

“He, uh, he did really help us though,” Stiles says. “I mean, he saved my dad’s life.”

“Alan Change is not evil, or even precisely ‘bad’,” Magnus agrees. “He is, as I said, shady. His help was genuine, but this, what am I doing now? Should have also been done. And I can guarantee you that he’s both well aware of that, and fully capable of having done it. He just chose not to. He’d rather step back and see how things play out.”

“Why would he want one of them to get possessed?” Derek asks, hovering closer to Stiles than he realizes.

“Honestly?” Magnus waves his free hand. “I would say boredom.”

“Boredom,” Stiles says, his tone flat. “Well, that’s . . . that’s just great. Until last night, I hadn’t slept in a _month_ , because Deaton got bored. Super.”

“I will be having words with him,” Magnus assures him.

“Okay. You do that. I’m gonna put his balls in a blender.”

Magnus stops at that, then turns and considers him. “Have you ever thought about taking a job as a personal assistant?”

Stiles blinks. “Are you – trying to hire me?”

“No,” Alec says. “No, he is not.” He looks at Magnus. “You are not.”

Magnus looks at Alec and edges towards a pout. “Why not?”

“Uh, where should I start? He’s a teenager. He’s still in high school. You are the last person we should be allowing access to impressionable young minds. And you’re also the last person who needs a snarky personal assistant. The world can’t handle that much sarcasm in one place.”

“He will be a legal adult soon, and has clearly already handled himself in adult situations, I will wait until he graduates, and I would say his mind is eager but hardly impressionable. Finally, what you really mean is that your mother and her Clave cronies couldn’t handle that much sarcasm in one place.”

“No, I really, actually mean that I think you two would create a singularity with the weight of your combined sass, and the entire world would collapse into it.”

“Uh, guys?” Stiles holds up a hand and says, “I’ve wanted to be a cop since I was four, so . . .”

Magnus looks pained. “Ah, well. You would have been perfect, though.”

Derek scowls. “Less talking, more fixing.”

“He’s perfectly safe within my wards, you know. But all right. To work.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~


	6. Chapter 6

 

Izzy looks up from her workstation as she sees Alec come into the Institute, and stands to greet him with a warm smile. “Hey, I wasn’t expecting you back until later.”

“Yeah, I planned to stay until dinner, but Magnus got a bee in his bonnet about some magic that had been done on Stiles by some other warlock that he needed to reverse. He said it would take a few hours and that he’d probably just want to sleep when he was done.”

“Derek’s not with you?”

“No, I asked him if he wanted to come, since watching Magnus chant and light incense would be pretty boring, but he didn’t want to leave Stiles.” Alec shakes his head, a fond smile tugging at his lips. “Did I ever have it that bad? Wait, don’t answer that.”

“Too late!” Izzy says, laughing. “You had it so bad that you’d lose your place in sentences and start stammering. Still do sometimes. It’s adorable.”

Alec scowls at her, but she can tell he doesn’t mean it for an instant. “Yeah, well, you can’t blame Derek for being clingy after everything that happened to him. And I guess this whole thing with Stiles’ dad having been kidnapped was a big deal. Some warlock did magic on Stiles to help him find his dad and according to Magnus it really fucked him up.”

“But Magnus can sort it out, right?” Izzy asks, concerned not only for Stiles but also for how upset Derek would be if it couldn’t be fixed.

“Yeah, he didn’t seem _worried_ per se. More like annoyed that the other warlock had dropped the ball.”

“He must like Stiles. Usually he isn’t into cleaning up other peoples’ messes.”

“Truth. Actually I’m pretty sure he’s about this close to _adopting_ Stiles, or at the very least hiring him as a miniature terror, which makes me uncomfortable for more reasons than I could begin to list.”

Izzy holds one hand up to her mouth to hide her laughter. “Speaking of messes. Since Magnus hasn’t been able to track down the warlock that took Derek’s memories, have you thought about asking Mom and Dad about it?”

Alec’s shoulders hunch a little defensively. “Why bother? It’s not like Mom’s going to tell us.”

At this, Izzy’s smile was one hundred percent bitchy. “Because I think Mom should be nailed to a wall for this, and if making her uncomfortable is the best I can do, I’ll take it.” The smile fades into a more reasonable expression. “Besides, if we try hard enough, we might be able to get an answer out of Dad.”

Alec shrugs. “Yeah, that sounds likely.”

“The difference between you and I, big brother, aside from my flawless fashion sense, is that you’re passive aggressive, and I’m just aggressive.”

With a snort of laughter, Alec agrees. “Okay. You can do all the talking, then.”

“Excellent,” Izzy says. Alec just shakes his head at her enthusiasm and heads to the portal. Maryse and Robert had spent most of their time in Idris even before Lydia had taken over the Institute; now they barely ever leave. At this time of day, they’ll be at home and Max will be at school, so it’s an ideal time to have the discussion.

Robert greets them when they arrive. “Well, what a pleasant surprise,” he says, smiling at his two children.

“Yes, one of many lately,” Izzy says with a bright smile.

Robert’s smile fades slightly. “Well. That’s.” He clears his throat, then stands back to let them in. “How have you been?”

“Better since I found out my twin brother isn’t dead,” Alec says, and Robert winces again.

“Derek’s doing okay,” Izzy says. “He’s a little short on memories, though. We were hoping you could help with that.”

“Oh, I don’t think . . .”

“Well, aren’t you two a sight for sore eyes,” Maryse interrupts, coming down the stairs and into the house’s foyer. “Robert, are you going to leave them standing in the front hall? Come in, for goodness’ sake.”

Izzy shoots Alec a look before marching into the house. He follows her, mouth set into a thin line as he anticipates how badly this is going to go.

“So,” Maryse says, “how is the Institute doing?”

“Great,” Alec says, his tone flat.

Izzy makes a disgusted noise. “Of course the Institute is doing great. Alec and Lydia know what they’re doing. Are we really going to sit here and pretend this is afternoon tea?”

“I’m not allowed to inquire after my own Institute?” Maryse asks.

Izzy opens her mouth, closes it, and then opens it again. “I’m just going to let that go. I’m a little surprised you aren’t trying to inquire about the son you tried to drop down a well, but that’s okay. I have a question or two.”

“I’m sure.”

Alec scowls at her. “The warlock who took Derek’s memories. We want to know who it is.”

“And why did you think I would tell you?”

“To save us some time?” Izzy suggests. “To make us _slightly_ less angry with you?” She can think of things a lot worse to say, but figures that she would give her mother a chance.

Maryse rubs her temples with that pinched expression that always spells trouble for her children. “The reason we didn’t tell you about this when you were children is because you were too young to understand. But you’re adults now. I simply can’t fathom why you can’t see that your father and I did what was for the best.”

“You told us our brother was dead,” Izzy spits out at her. “For years, you made us live with that. You gave Derek away. You took his memories and when he needed help, he didn’t know where to find us. Your opinions aside, _we_ still would have been happy to help him. So no, Mother, I’m really failing to see how it was ‘for the best’, unless you meant that it was for the best _for you_ , in which case I completely get it. I despise it, but I get it.”

Maryse folds her arms over her chest. “Are you done?”

“I don’t know. Did any of it get through?”

“You aren’t going to get the name of the sorcerer,” Maryse says, ignoring the question. “You shouldn’t be associating with Downworlders,” she adds with a curled lip.

“So no, none of it got through,” Izzy says, as Alec’s jaw clenches. “I note your opinion and on behalf of both of us would like to tell you that we don’t care. As adults, we can make our own choices about who we do and do not associate with. We have our brother back, with or without his memories.”

“Well, then, I’d say finding the warlock who took them away is hardly important,” Maryse replies. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have business to attend to.”

“Tell the Clave’s boots I said hello while you’re down there kissing them,” Alec mutters as she leaves.

Izzy giggles. “That’s a target a little lower than I would have used . . .”

“For goodness’ sakes, you two,” Robert says, clearing his throat as the door bangs shut behind Maryse. “That’s your mother.”

“Yeah, our mother who told us that our brother was dead so she could look good for her racist friends, Dad,” Izzy says flatly.

Robert pinches the bridge of her nose. “Isabelle. Please. You might not approve of your mother’s reasoning, but you’re old enough now to understand that it was much more complicated than that.”

“The explain to me what complicated reason made what was done to us acceptable.” Izzy gives her father an attentive look.

Robert spreads his hands. “Listen. I don’t want to place blame for the incident. Your mother did . . . quite enough of that. But . . . despite the reasoning, your brother became a Downworlder because of a decision that he and Alec made. Even if we kept him in the family, kept in touch with him, how do you think other people in the Clave would respond to that? Can you imagine the cruelty of the other children, what they would have done and said to Alec?”

That did make Izzy pause for a second, while Alec shifts uncomfortably. She’s wondering how many of those kids she would have been able to punch. “But even telling us that he’d had to go to a different family would have been better than telling us he had died.”

“You were children, you could have told somebody the truth, accidentally or on purpose,” Robert says. “We didn’t want to subject you to, to _anyone’s_ response. Maybe it wasn’t the right thing to do, but we did it for you. All of you.”

“If that’s true,” Izzy says, sounding a little less militant, “then can’t we have the name of the warlock who took his memories? We aren’t children anymore. Can’t we have back some of what we lost?”

“Isabelle, honestly, I would tell you if I could, but your mother arranged all of that. I don’t think I ever knew his name, and I certainly can’t remember it now. That was fourteen years ago.”

“And Mom won’t tell us because it’s back to what’s good for her, and whose ass she’s kissing. I’ll believe your heart being in the right place, but Mom’s? No.”

Robert rubs a hand over his scalp. “I’ll talk to her.”

“Yeah, that’ll help.” Alec snorts derisively. “This was just as pointless as I told you it would be. There’s never any point in coming here for help.”

“Well, I did get to temporarily empty the well of resentment I have for Mom,” Izzy says brightly. She looks at her father and continues, “So, we’re going to go. Let us know if you get anything out of her.”

Robert nods, but Alec is heading out the door.

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

Derek is still pacing nervously when the door to the workroom opens and Magnus emerges with Stiles in his wake. He knows he doesn’t need to worry – Magnus has assured him several times that even in the infinitesimal chance the spell didn’t work, Stiles wouldn’t be harmed by a failure – but he can’t help it. The look on Stiles’ face when he had settled down for Magnus to do the heavy lifting, well. Stiles looked scared. He didn’t need to be, but he was, and it has Derek climbing the walls.

Cora has remarked several times that Derek should really park his ass somewhere, but Derek ignored her twice and snarled at her the third time, after which she gave up on him. And now that Magnus and Stiles are coming his way, he wishes he had taken her advice, because he sees Magnus roll his eyes, and Stiles –

“Hiiiiiiiii,” Stiles says, waving cheerfully and stumbling across the room.

“Hi,” Derek says automatically, then looks at Magnus. “What is happening here?”

“Just a few side effects,” Magnus replies, steering Stiles over onto the sofa. “The connection to the Nemeton was physically weighing him down, in some ways – think of it like a live current constantly being run through his body. Now it’s gone, but he’s still positively swimming in the endorphins he was producing to combat it.”

“So . . . you’re saying he’s high,” Cora says.

“As a kite, yes.”

Derek drops down onto the cushion next to the one Stiles is now occupying. “Thanks. For sorting him out.” He turns to give Stiles a look, wondering if he can get a picture of the goofy smiling face that he’s wearing right now.

“Oh my God, Derek,” Stiles says, staring at him. “That sucked. I didn’t even know how much it sucked, but it was, like, it was all the suck. I was carrying the _world_ on my shoulders. You know?”

Derek considers this and then gives up because he’s not even sure that Stiles will remember this later after he’s gotten some sleep. “Yeah.”

“Well, on that cheerful note, I’m going to go take two ibuprofen with a martini and then go to sleep,” Magnus says. “Should Alec get back before I’m up, tell him that if he wants to wake me, he’d better do it naked if he wants to live.”

“That’s hot,” Stiles says, nodding sagely.

“I’ll be sure to notify him,” Derek says, as Magnus wanders away.

“That I think it’s hot?” Stiles asks, then adds, “Not as hot as you, though. I mean, you two do look a lot alike, but you’re definitely hotter. I think it’s the stubble? I’m not sure. Alec should grow stubble. For science.”

“No, I’m really very sure he shouldn’t, for science or otherwise,” Derek says, thinking that he’s going to tell Alec about this, just to see the look on his face.

“You know what I thought when I first saw you?” Stiles asks, crawling into Derek’s lap and curling up so he can rest his head against Derek’s shoulder.

Derek frowns slightly, not sure where Stiles is going with this. He settles down with his arm around Stiles’ shoulders, thinking about how angry and hostile he had been at that first meeting. “I hesitate to ask.”

“I looked at you and thought, ‘holy shit, I’m gay!’”

Cora coughs. “This is my cue. I’m leaving.”

Stiles takes no notice of her departure. “I’m not, though. I’m actually bi. But damn. I mean, just, I don’t really believe in love at first sight, but _damn_. You know?”

“Uh,” Derek says, blinking at him. “That is _so_ not what I was expecting you to say.”

“You were all just dark and broody and hot and amazing and I was like ‘oh, hello’, which was weird because I had always liked Lydia so much, so for a while I thought maybe it was some sort of overcompensation, but then Heather kissed me, which was actually pretty awesome, so in the end I guess I’m bisexual but you’re still my favorite.” Stiles beams up at him and presses a clumsy kiss against his jaw.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Derek says. “And I’m glad you didn’t get stuck on what an asshole I was.” He moves his head a little bit out of reach. “There will be no kissing or anything of the like while you’re high.”

“Uh huh.” Stiles hums contently, then sits up straight. “Wait, does that mean there’s going to be kissing when I’m sober?”

“I’m not making any deals or agreements now,” Derek says, trying not to panic.

“Why not? You’re not high.” Stiles pauses, considering. “You’re not high, right?”

“No, I’m not.” Derek changes the subject, hoping that Stiles is as easily distractible as he seems. “Have you ever been high before?”

“Are you kidding? My father’s the sheriff.” Stiles laughs. “I’ve been drunk once or twice, but never high. I mean, sometimes I take too much Adderall but I don’t really think that’s what you’re talking about. I guess werewolves can’t get high, huh? You’re totally missing out. I feel amaaaaaazing.”

Derek thanks his lucky stars that Stiles allowed the subject change. “Magnus said I could get drunk if I had a good bartender. By which I can only assume he meant himself.”

“Yeah.” Stiles chews on his lower lip, frowning. “I shouldn’t feel this good, though, right? I mean, really I just hadn’t realized how bad I was feeling. I mean, I knew I was fucked up, but. I was like. Suuuuuuuper fucked up.”

“You shouldn’t have been left vulnerable to get fucked up in the first place.” Derek’s scowl returns, thinking about how he’s going to beat the shit out of Deaton.

“No, no, I know that,” Stiles says, blinking up at him. “I just . . . I’m just . . . really happy. That you brought me here. You saved my life and I didn’t even know it.”

Derek flushes pink. “Your dad helped you get out of town. I think he deserves some credit.”

“Oh, yeah, my dad totally deserves credit, but I’m just saying, I did this for you, you know? Because even though everything else had gone wrong, and everything was a disaster and I wasn’t sleeping and just,” Stiles mimes an explosion and makes the corresponding noise. “But sometimes you look at me and I feel like things are gonna go _right_ for once, and everything’s going to be okay. I’m not sure why. I’m not even sure I’m making sense.”

“You are.” Derek is frankly having a hard time thinking while Stiles is snuggled up in his lap. He isn’t sure if he wants to kiss Stiles stupid or just curl up around him and sleep. But the first is inappropriate, especially right now, and he’s afraid that Stiles would take the second as a lead in to the first. So he does neither. “Things go better for me, too, when you’re around.”

Stiles smiles up at him, an honest, happy expression. “We’re awesome.”

“Well, you are, at any rate,” Derek said. He’s trying to memorize the look on Stiles’ face, because he doesn’t think he’s ever seen it before, and he knows he might not ever seen it again.

“Listen to me, mister,” Stiles says, poking Derek in the chest, “you are awesome. Because you, like, have you ever thought about your life? You have an origin story that supervillains would envy, but you, you didn’t let it make you into a villain. You still try to help people and protect people – you even tried to protect me and Scott when we were being assholes to you, and we were suuuuuuuch assholes to you at the beginning. So just, just sit there in your awesomeness and be awesome and get used to it.”

Derek is honestly a little taken aback. He really _hadn’t_ ever thought about his life like that. “Fine. But only because things never work out for super villains.”

Stiles frowns. “Actually I’m not sure about, if you look at the hero to villain ratio in Beacon Hills, things actually _have_ worked out better for, say, Peter and Deucalion than they’ve worked out for us. Maybe we should change sides. Be evil. You’d still like me if I was evil, right?”

“Obviously. But then I’d have to be evil, too. Someone would eventually complain.”

“Supervillains don’t have to listen to complaints.”

“Is that what makes them super?”

“Yeah.” Stiles yawns. “Wow. I think I’m kinda high.”

“You also sound tired.”

“Mm hm. Being a tree is very tiring.”

That gets a huff of amusement from Derek. “I can only imagine.”

“So . . . I’m gonna sleep. And you’re gonna stay here and be my pillow. And when we wake up, we’re going to get pizza. Because. I’ve been in New York City for _days_ now and still haven’t had pizza from Di Fara. What is that about.” His voice trails off into another yawn and he cuddles closer.

“From wh . . .” Derek cuts himself off, lest he be treated to an hour spiel on which place has the best pizza in New York. Besides, Stiles is already asleep.

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

After the disastrous meeting with his parents, Alec decides he needs to address the issue of who had suggested they follow their father immediately. He had nearly panicked when Robert had been talking about it, afraid that Izzy would find out before he’d had a chance to tell her. She hadn’t, but it had been close. He needs to get it off his chest before anyone else can do it for him. In any case, this will be a good time. Derek is in a good mood, happy that Stiles is safe from whatever magic had been done to him. Maybe that will help.

He spends several hours trying to think of a tactful way to address the subject before he gives up. He’s not tactful, or suave, or basically any of the things he needs to be to make this less painful. So after dinner, when they’re sitting around doing not much besides digesting an enormous amount of pizza, he takes a deep breath and plunges in. “So, uh, Derek. I need to talk to you. Privately. But also with Izzy and Magnus.”

Derek just blinks at him, so Cora says, “You use a strange version of English if that’s private.” But then she stands and pokes Stiles in the shoulder. “Come on. I’ll tell you how I trained piranhas to hunt other fish for me.”

“Okay, this time I _know_ you’re bullshitting,” Stiles says, but he follows her without complaint.

Alec waits until their voices have faded and clears his throat nervously. Izzy is giving him a puzzled look, but Magnus reaches out to rest his hand on Alec’s forearm. “So, uh. I was thinking about, you know, you getting your memories back. And there’s something that I think you should probably know before that happens.”

“Okay.” Derek’s confused, but tries to keep his voice even. It’s clearly stressful for Alec, whatever it is, so he tries not to let his curiosity make him sound impatient.

“I, uh, that night we snuck out. Dad was going out on a mission and, you know, we’d spent the last few months trying to convince him that we were old enough to go along, that we knew the basic runes, and of course he kept saying no, so we decided to follow him.” Alec clears his throat again. “Actually, uh, I decided we should follow him. It was my idea. To sneak out.”

Derek nods, to show that he’s listening. He doesn’t want to interrupt since Alec is obviously working hard to get this out.

There’s a moment of awkward silence. When Alec is still looking nervous, Magnus lightly squeezes his wrist and says to Derek, “That was it. Confession completed.”

“Oh,” Derek says, and thinks about that for a minute. There’s a lot under the surface of Alec’s confession, and as he watches Alec twitch nervously, he thinks he understands what Alec _isn’t_ saying. He tries to figure out what to say to make him feel better, because he’s pretty sure that ‘that’s okay’ or ‘don’t worry about it’ will only make him feel like Derek doesn’t understand or isn’t taking it seriously. After a moment, he decides that Cora’s rough approach to things might work better. He reaches out and flicks Alec’s nose. “That was stupid.”

Alec chokes out a little laugh. “Yeah, no – no arguments here on that score.” He presses a hand over his mouth. “I, uh, I thought you’d be mad. I mean. It was a stupid idea, but it was _my_ stupid idea, and . . .”

“And I ended up as a werewolf.” Derek shrugs. “I think what you _thought_ happened because of it was much worse than what actually _did_ happen.”

“Well, yeah. Obviously. I mean.” Alec lets out a shaky breath. “Thinking you’ve gotten your twin brother killed. Zero out of ten. Would not recommend.”

“Oh, Alec,” Izzy says, reaching over to give him a hug.

“That . . . that’s a feeling I understand, actually,” Derek says.

Alec’s gaze flickers up to him, thinking about some of what Derek had said about his family’s death. “Yeah, well. I guess we both have a habit of blaming ourselves for things that aren’t really our fault. Must be genetic. Or, uh, or something. I just – fuck, can I ask you to do something really stupid?”

“Sure. It probably won’t even be the stupidest thing this month.”

“Would you, uh, flick my nose again?” Alec flushes pink. “You used to do it all the time when we were kids whenever you wanted me to stop being stupid. It’s like you remember somehow.”

Derek reaches out and does it again. “You’re going to regret that once I get my memories back. I’ll do it all the time.”

“I don’t care,” Alec says, getting an arm around Derek’s shoulders and pulling him into a hug so tight that it squeezes the air out of him. Derek hugs back. Memories or no memories, it feels right to him. It feels like family, like pack.

“Holy shit,” Izzy says suddenly, and Alec winces a little as he pulls away from Derek. “Literally _so many things_ make sense now. I mean, I love you, big brother, but now I finally get your perpetual ‘the law is the law’ boner.”

Alec grimaces. “Way to ruin the moment, Izzy.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “Really. You couldn’t wait to bring that up?”

Izzy responds with a shrug. “You ever try to remember where you’d heard something, and then you suddenly remember and just blurt it out? Imagine trying to figure something out for fourteen years and then suddenly realizing what the answer is.”

Derek reaches out and flicks her nose.

Izzy throws her arms around him with so much force that his chair is nearly knocked backwards. “I have my big brother back,” Izzy says, in a voice that’s close to tears. Derek hugs her back, burying his nose in her hair and getting his other arm back around Alec’s shoulder. “Best. Day. Ever!”

After a minute, Izzy pulls away with a frown. “Wait a second. Alec . . . did Mom know that you were the one who suggested sneaking out?”

Alec flushes pink, looks away, and nods.

“So . . . she not only told you that our brother was dead, she actively made you believe that you had gotten him killed.”

Derek growls. He could try to put his feelings into words, but the growl feels much more concise. In fact, he has to put active effort into not showing teeth.

“Well, to be fair,” Alec says in a somewhat dry tone, “I was _much_ better behaved afterwards.”

Derek’s growl ratchets up a notch. Magnus rubs his temples with two fingers and says, “Darling, if that was meant to make us feel better . . .”

“No, it wasn’t.” Alec gives a little shrug. “I’m sure that’s part of why Mom did it. Maybe not the main part, but once she realized what I was doing to myself, she certainly never made an effort to stop me. Why would she?”

Derek takes a deep breath to calm himself and find his words. “I’ve never met her and I’m already sure she’s horrible.”

“You don’t even know the half of it.” Izzy is keyed up now. “I mean, they’re supposed to be in charge of this facility, but they’ve basically been letting Alec run it since he was nineteen, putting _everything_ on his shoulders and never giving him a break. The instant something went wrong, it was his fault, even though he was barely an adult and he was only taking over what they were supposed to be doing, with one quarter of their training and experience. And on top of that, Mom was always talking about how she needed us to uphold the family Lightwood name and restore our reputation without ever _once_ mentioning the fact that the reason they were out of favor with the Clave was because they’d joined up with the Shadowhunter equivalent of the KKK when they were our age. They never let Alec have _anything_ he wanted, and let’s not even get started on the whole marriage debacle – ”

“I told him about that,” Alec interrupts, before she can keep going.

“I hear Lydia’s actually pretty decent,” Derek adds, trying to slow down Izzy’s tide of vitriol.

“Oh, yeah, Lydia’s fantastic, I love Lydia, but that doesn’t change the fact that Alec agreed to marry a woman he had just met because he thought it might save our family’s reputation, thanks to Mom manipulating him for fifteen years – ”

“Izzy,” Alec says, looking pained, “we’re all upset with Mom, okay? Will you please just – stop yelling?”

Izzy folds her arms over her chest. “Fine. As long as you’re actually upset with her, and not just saying that so I’ll stop.”

“If anyone should be turned into a hat rack, it’s her,” Magnus says. “It wouldn’t be harming her, per se.”

“I somehow think she would disagree with you,” Alec replies.

Magnus holds up his hands in surrender. “But she wouldn’t be able to voice her disagreement if she was a hat rack.”

“You do make a compelling argument,” Alec says solemnly, and leans over for a kiss. “But still, the answer’s no. Mostly because I have a feeling that by the time Derek gets done with her, she’s going to _wish_ she was a hat rack.”

“I can hope,” Derek says.

 

~ ~ ~ ~


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just making up some stuff about magic~

 

“So!” Magnus claps his hands and regards Stiles over his breakfast. Stiles is eating cold pizza. Magnus is having pastries that Alec brought him, even though it’s been pouring rain since dawn. “Now that you’re feeling better, we really should train you to use your magic before you accidentally blow something up.”

“You’re seriously going to teach me how to use magic?” Stiles asks, eyes wide.

“I seriously am,” Magnus says.

“Is that . . . the best idea in the world?” Alec is frowning, clearly concerned. “I mean, he’s only a fraction fae, having access to that sort of power might not be good for him.”

“Ah, ah,” Magnus says, tapping Alec on the lips. “Shadowhunters cannot interfere in Downworlder affairs, Alexander. I can train anyone I want to use magic, and you can’t say anything about it.” He smiles as Alec grows more sour. “But to answer your concern, he has access to the power whether anyone wants him to or not, so it really would be best if he was trained how to use it.”

“Awesome,” Stiles breathes out.

“Do you have any plans for the day, darling?” Magnus asks Alec.

Alec shakes his head. “I think we were just going to hang out here, since the weather’s bad. Izzy said she’d be over later if she finished up work early enough.”

“We’ll use my workroom, then,” Magnus says, standing up with a flourish. Stiles follows him eagerly, abandoning his food while Derek rolls his eyes. Magnus closes the door behind him and gestures for Stiles to have a seat on the floor. “So, what do you already know how to do? Derek said you could work with mountain ash. Is there anything else?”

“Uh, not really.” Stiles folds his legs underneath himself. “And I didn’t even realize that working with mountain ash was that special. I mean, Deaton basically said it was about envisioning the result, like anyone could do it as long as they believed that it would work.”

“Maybe. What exactly did you do?”

“Well – ” Stiles frowns. “He gave me this bag of mountain ash and I had to make a barrier out of it. To hold in supernatural creatures. But there wasn’t enough. So I just kind of closed my eyes and _pictured_ there being enough, and then somehow there was. And now I’m suddenly wondering if that shady motherfucker shorted me on purpose to see if I’d be able to do it.”

Magnus shrugs a little. “On that score, I couldn’t say. You’re correct in that anyone can lay down a mountain ash barrier. But what you did at the end took actual power.”

“Okay. Sweet.” Stiles looks around like he’s not sure where they go from here. “So, uh, what does that actually mean?”

“It means you have a flexible mind, and that is incredibly useful. Because you don’t have a _lot_ of power. But there are ways around that.”

“Like?”

“Ley lines. Natural energy sources like moving water.” Magnus makes swirling motions with his hands to illustrate, blue sparks coming off his fingers which gather into flowing lines. “It really is everywhere, but often in quantities too small to be useful or even noticeable. If you can get to one, your small bit of inherent magic will let you handle and direct the power.”

Stiles frowns as he thinks all this over. “Any form of natural energy? So I could use something like fire? Or wind? Or what about, like, power lines? Could I use power lines?”

Magnus blinks, suddenly caught between sneaking terror and utter delight. It’s only through four hundred years of experience that his glee doesn’t show on his face. Teaching Stiles is going to be fun. If he doesn’t manage to kill them both. “Yes, I don’t see any reason why you wouldn’t be able to use those.”

“I mean, natural energy is pretty much just wind, solar, and hydro,” Stiles says, “although you can get some power through geothermal energy, and I’ve heard about efforts to harness the powers of the tides to – you probably don’t actually care and let’s be real, I probably won’t be casting a lot of spells while standing at the edge of the ocean. Right. What about more manmade sources of power? Like, a bullet’s velocity would be a tremendous source of energy, could I stop bullets using their own energy? That sounds amazing but also very counterintuitive – ”

“Let’s avoid bullets for now,” Magnus says. He’d rather avoid bullets forever, but he’s suddenly very sure that telling Stiles ‘no, you can’t do that’ would be the worst thing that he could do. “We can start small and simple and work our way up.”

“Okay.” Stiles looks at him eagerly, waiting for the secrets of the universe to be dropped on his head.

“Well, what do you want to learn?” Magnus asks. “Can you think of magic that would be helpful to you in this moment? Or in your day to day life?”

Stiles chews on his lower lip. “Seeing across distances? Because, you know, being able to check on my dad . . . or Scott . . . without having to bug them all the time. That would be pretty useful.”

Magnus was suddenly reminded that his student has some very real issues. He raises a cautionary finger. “With your father’s permission, I will teach you how to look in on him.”

“Oh, I . . .” Stiles gives a nervous little laugh. “Guess that would be a huge invasion of privacy, huh? I didn’t really think about it that way. Warlocks care about that sort of thing, huh?”

Magnus shrugs. “Warlocks are just people, cupcake. Some of us are complete dicks, and some of us take things like privacy very seriously.”

“Well, I probably shouldn’t completely abandon morals, so, uh . . .” Stiles glances outside at the pouring rain. “Hey, how about a spell that would work as an umbrella? For if I ever got caught out in the rain.”

“Sound choice.” Magnus looks out the window as well. “Go put something warm on, because we’re most likely going to become quite soggy before we get it down pat.”

“I, uh . . .” Stiles gestures to the hoodie he’s wearing and says, “This is really the warmest thing I brought. I mean, I didn’t exactly plan for this.”

“It’ll be incentive to work hard then, won’t it?” Magnus smiles at Stiles and then pulls a long coat out of the closet for himself and herds Stiles towards the door. Once Stiles’ back is turned, he flicks his fingers and sends a lick of blue flame at the teenager. The spell will keep Stiles warm enough that he won’t suffer any ill effects beyond annoyance. “Can you find ley lines by feel?”

“Maybe if someone told me what they felt like,” Stiles says with a shrug.

“People often describe it differently. To me, it feels like the rush of air feeding a fire.” He lets his magic dance over his fingers as he goes down the stairs to the lobby. He intends to portal them to the ley line that runs through Central Park, but first he wants to know if Stiles can sense it. “But many fae describe it as a river’s current beneath the earth.”

“Okay,” Stiles says. He hesitates, then says, “Am I supposed to be trying to find one? Because I feel like this is going to be the world’s longest game of hot and cold, if so.”

Amused, Magnus says, “Just try to see if you can get the direction correct. If you aren’t, it’s something we can work on later.”

“Okay,” Stiles says. He still feels dubious, but he closes his eyes and listens to the rain for a minute. Actually, he feels pretty silly, like he’s a blind person who’s been told to point to the nearest yellow object. After long enough has gone by that he feels like he’s put in a solid effort at standing around, he says, “I got nothing.”

“We’ll try again after you’ve actually dipped your fingers in, as it were.” He turns and opens a portal with a swirl of his hands. “After you.”

It’s raining just as hard in Central Park, and Stiles is drenched almost immediately. Fortunately, the weather means that the park is mostly abandoned, so nobody will see him fumbling around and attempting to do magic. He looks over as Magnus steps through the portal and closes it behind him, his outfit somehow staying perfectly in order.

“Here.” Magnus advances a few steps to where the grass is a little more lush and there are a few little wild flowers. “It travels through the park and then out into the city, but out there it runs deeper underneath the earth.” He holds a hand out with a flame of magic in his palm, and it flares a little higher and brighter, leaning as if in a breeze.

Stiles still feels a little foolish as he steps onto the patch of thick grass. He’s about to say so when he realizes that he _does_ feel it. It’s like stepping onto a live wire, a little vibration that runs up and down his body. He has goose bumps. He kneels down and presses his bare hands into the grass. It’s even stronger once he’s touching it with his bare skin. “It feels like . . .” He struggles to find the words. “Like there’s something moving underground. Like . . . not like water exactly, not like a river. I don’t know how to describe it.”

Magnus folds himself down to sit in the grass beside Stiles. “As I said, it feels different to everyone. But what it is, is life. Power. The soul of the world, maybe.” He gives a little shrug, content to let Stiles take his time.

After a minute, Stiles opens his eyes. “The one in Beacon Hills doesn’t feel anything like this, though. Is every ley line different?”

“Somewhat. All water is wet, but an ocean is very different from a stream. Like water, they can be affected by their environment.” Magnus runs his fingers through the grass. “What does the one in Beacon Hills feel like?”

Stiles thinks about it for a long minute, trying to figure out what he’s felt walking around in Beacon Hills lately, especially out in the forest. “This one sort of, of hums, like a motor or something. But the one at home buzzes. Like a wasp’s nest.”

“It’s most likely due to the Nemeton. That’s been corrupted somehow, and it’s contaminating everything. That’s spread to the ley lines.”

“Huh. I guess that makes sense.” Stiles shivers a little. “Okay, right, how do I keep myself from drowning out here?”

“You have some options. You could create an umbrella of sorts, or a bubble. Or you could create a resistant layer, which is what I’ve done.” He gestures to how the rain has been falling around him, but he’s still dry. “That’s the least noticeable to others if you’re intent on keeping your clothes dry. To have the magic be truly invisible you’d have to have the layer underneath your clothes, which might be a little bit chilly but at least wouldn’t be damp.”

“Okay, well . . . you said to start simple so I guess I’d go with an umbrella, at least for now.” Stiles looks dubiously up at the sky.

“Remember, you have an entire river at your disposal, but you only need enough power to fill a small cup. Go slow.”

“Right.” Stiles lets his hand curl in the grass. “And I, uh, do what exactly? Just picture the umbrella, right?”

“Anything that helps you with the idea. Picture the umbrella, imagine what it feels like to have the rain no longer falling on you. Consider the circle of dry space an umbrella creates. A mental image is just a mental concept. Not an actual image.”

“Okay. Okay. I can do this.” Stiles closes his eyes and tries to imagine it. Thinks about being warm and dry. Thinks about his mother’s old umbrella. Thinks about how annoying it is that umbrellas don’t keep his feet dry –

The next thing he knows, he’s standing in a pool of water almost a foot deep. “What the fuck!” he blurts out.

Magnus covers his mouth with one hand so his laugh isn’t obvious. “Things often don’t go right on the first try.” He waves a hand and banishes the pool off to an actual pond. “Any idea what went wrong?”

“I, uh, I started thinking about how umbrellas don’t keep your feet dry,” Stiles says, somewhat sheepishly.

“Obviously something that annoys you quite a bit,” Magnus says, amused. “Try again.”

“Right, right.” Stiles shakes his head. “I read once that if you leave a turkey standing out in the rain, it’ll get confused and look up with its mouth open and then drown, and now I’m afraid I’m going to turn myself into a turkey if I get distracted while I’m trying to do this. I’ve never been so worried that having ADD might actually kill me before.”

“Transformations are incredibly difficult. I don’t think you have to worry.” In reality, Magnus doesn’t know anyone besides vampires and werewolves who can change forms, but he doesn’t want to cripple Stiles with his own pre-conceived notions.

“Right, well, if I change into a turkey I expect you to do something about it. Something other than making cranberry sauce.” Stiles closes his eyes and tries to concentrate again. He does end up tilting his head back slightly, because feeling the rain on his face helps him focus on it. He visualizes air pushing upwards, an expanding circle over himself. He’s more than a little shocked when it actually works. The raindrops stop landing on his face. He opens his eyes. “Hey, I think I – ” He gets that far before his concentration wavers and the rain he’s been holding above his head falls directly into his face with a splash.

“Well done!” Magnus says, clearly sincere.

“Pfffffbt,” Stiles replies, spitting water everywhere.

“Yes, there are clearly still a few kinks to work out.”

“Can we work them out somewhere dry?” Stiles asks.

“Absolutely not. How will you know they work, then? Unless you’ll let me take the kitchen sprayer to you.” Magnus leans back on his hands. “But we could try again on a different rainy day.”

“No, I’ll keep trying, but if I catch a cold, I’m going to blame you.”

“Noted.” Magnus clearly isn’t bothered by the threat. “So what went wrong? Why did the water pool above you? This is normal, I should tell you. Having to work out the kinks in a new spell.”

“I guess I just didn’t think about where it should go,” Stiles says. “I was so focused on it not hitting me, I didn’t bother to think about what should happen instead.”

Magnus nods a little. “Two easy solutions would be to have it fall around you like it would with a mundane umbrella, or banish it to somewhere else. Truthfully, I don’t know if you’re able to banish things.”

“I feel like maybe it’s a bad idea for me to find out,” Stiles says with a snort of laughter. “But okay, yeah. Mundane umbrella time.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

By the time magic lessons are over, Derek and Alec are going through photo albums together, sitting on Magnus’ sofa. Since Stiles has decided to call his father and then take a nap for as many hours as he can get away with, Magnus goes to see the others. He stops dramatically in the doorway and waits to be noticed.

Alec arches an eyebrow at him. “Yes?”

“That child is going to be a holy terror,” Magnus says, and settles in Alec’s lap. “And I’ve missed you terribly, of course.”

“Of course,” Alec agrees, giving him a kiss.

Derek gives a snort of amusement. “I did try to warn people. But how do you mean?”

“Well, there I am, teaching him about how to find power in nature, like ley lines and moving water, and guess what his response was?”

“Knowing Stiles, probably something ridiculous like tornadoes.”

“Power lines,” Magnus says. “He wants to use _power lines_.”

Alec frowns faintly. “Can he do that?”

“He can if he believes he can, although I can’t promise that he won’t electrocute himself trying.”

Derek looks thoughtful at this. “I feel like I should be surprised, but I’m not. Did he make Emperor Palpatine motions?”

“No, but probably only because I told him we were going to wait on any such destructive activity until he was _well_ ready for it. I really don’t want to have to get charbroiled teenager out of the carpet.”

“There had _better_ not be any charbroiled teenager,” Derek says, scowling at him. “Or charbroiled Stiles at any age.”

“Yes, well, that’s why I haven’t taught him how to use power lines yet, now isn’t it,” Magnus says, with a dramatic roll of his eyes. “I’m just saying, he’s going to be absolutely terrifying. Which I approve of one hundred percent, really,” he adds.

Alec rolls his eyes. “Admit it. You’re over the moon.”

“Maybe,” Magnus allows, and tilts his chin with a snooty sniff. “A student worthy of my talents and reputation.”

“He’s already terrifying,” Derek mutters.

“I thought you said he wasn’t that powerful, though,” Alec says.

“Oh, he isn’t,” Magnus says, “but that doesn’t matter if he’s creative enough. Granted, there are some things he’ll simply never be able to do. But if he finds ways to power his spells from natural sources, rerouting the world’s energy as it were, then his own innate power level doesn’t matter very much. It’s about finding ways to cheat the system.”

Derek flops back against the arm of the sofa. “Did you tell him it was about ways to cheat the system? Because that’s one of his favorite things to do. Right up there with ‘Wiki wandering’ and ‘being right’.”

“I absolutely told him that,” Magnus says, looking smug.

“Oh, great.”

Alec is shaking his head. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”

“No such thing, my darling.”

Derek holds up his hands in surrender. “As long as it gives him better weapons and self-defense tools than a baseball bat, you can enjoy it as much as you want.”

Magnus gives an elegant little shrug. “Don’t get too excited. We spent four hours today figuring out how to deflect rain. This is not the sort of task that one learns overnight.”

“I’ll take that into account. You should remember not to be shocked by his learning curve.”

“Oh, because now he thinks he can deflect bullets? I think I’ll take it just a _tad_ slower than he’s probably capable of.”

“Let’s . . . let’s avoid bullets,” Derek says. “His father would kill us.”

“Well, yes, avoiding bullets was my general plan,” Magnus says, somewhat peevishly, “before certain someones started making presumptions about my teaching expertise by talking about how I shouldn’t be surprised by the learning curve of a student who jumped from ‘ley lines’ to ‘Emperor Palpatine’ without stopping for breath.”

Derek gives an amused huff and says, “You’re made for each other.”

Alec arches an eyebrow at his brother. “Magnus and I? Or Magnus and Stiles?”

Derek shrugs and pointedly changes the subject. “In all seriousness, have you ever had a student before? I’m just curious. Not trying to cast aspersions.”

“Quite a few over the years, although never someone who was part fae before,” Magnus says. He glances over at Alec and continues, “Warlocks are quite often orphaned not long after birth, and we also can’t have our own children. I’ve never formally adopted any of the many warlock children I’ve met, but I’ve tutored a fair number of them.”

Since Magnus doesn’t seem overly fond of this topic, Derek decides he’ll stick to talking about Stiles. “Is teaching someone with fae magic harder?”

“I wouldn’t say harder. Just different.”

Alec is giving Magnus a faint frown. “Why are you giving me that look?”

“I was not giving you a look.”

“You were,” Alec says. “You brought up warlocks and adoption and gave me a look like you wanted to ask me something but didn’t know how to bring it up.”

“Well, if there was a look, it was unintentional.”

“Did you want to talk about adopting kids? But you think I wouldn’t want to for some reason?”

Magnus blinks, a little taken aback. “No. Yes? That wasn’t exactly . . .”

Derek stands up, and retrieves a book from the side table. “I’ll leave you two to talk.”

“You don’t need to run away just because we want to have a serious discussion,” Alec says, rolling his eyes. “But fine, go, make sure Stiles hasn’t electrocuted himself yet,” he adds, and Derek flips him off as he’s leaving the room. Alec waits until he hears the door shut and then gives Magnus the side eye. “I didn’t mean to, you know, spring that on you. I just wasn’t sure why you suddenly seemed so weird.”

Magnus leans into Alec’s shoulder. “We just haven’t talked much about when I was a child, or the possibility of us having children, or . . . several related topics, really. I suppose I was having an awkward penguin moment.”

“I love your awkward penguin moments,” Alec says, smiling at him.

“Well, thank God for that, darling,” Magnus says, and he smiles back, but it’s his soft smile, the one most people don’t see.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want. Either part of it. But, you know, I bet you would make a great dad,” Alec adds, his cheeks flushing slightly pink.

“So would you,” Magnus says, and kisses his cheek. “But do you want children? Is that something you want? Now or in the future?”

Alec looks thoughtful for a minute. “You know, I’ve honestly never really thought about it. It’s always just been a thing that I would do. Get married, have kids. I never stopped to think about whether or not I _wanted_ them. I don’t know that I would be a great dad, to be honest. I didn’t exactly have a lot in the way of great parental role models. I wouldn’t know what to do with a kid.”

“Are you joking? You have a nine year old brother who thinks you hung the moon.” Magnus stretches out a little, letting his feet land where Derek had been. “Besides, successful role models hasn’t actually got a lot to do with learning how to handle children. Do you know who raised me?”

Alec raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t we just go over the fact that I barely know anything about your childhood?”

“Well, you’re about to learn something,” Magnus says, with good humor. “After my mother died, I was raised by the Silent Brothers.”

“Yikes,” Alec says.

“Good people, obviously, but not exactly good role models for parenting.”

“I . . . can see that. What with all the staring and mouths stitched closed and telepathy and general . . . creepiness.”

“As you say,” Magnus agrees with a nod. “On the other hand, it did teach me not to be intimidated by anyone.”

“It does explain a lot about you,” Alec says, tracing his fingers over Magnus’ jawbone. “God, that killed me about you when we first met, you know. Your confidence. It just – that’s still the sexiest thing about you.”

That gets another smile. “It was the first thing I noticed about you as well. That and the way you moved.”

“Yes, I was super confident and secure when you met me,” Alec says, rolling his eyes.

“You were in combat. And still are.”

“Then I turned into a stuttering mess,” Alec says, laughing despite himself.

“And it was adorable.” Magnus is clearly smitten all over again, just remembering it.

“Well, for the record, although the idea of you having your own miniature terror is somewhat alarming, I’m glad that you’re happy. And we probably shouldn’t, you know, rush into anything, but I’m just saying, it’s a thing we should talk about. Us and kids. I mean, if nothing else, can you even imagine what my mother would do if we adopted a child together? A _warlock_ child?”

“Oh, Lord.” Magnus starts laughing. “Her head would spin around like she was in the Exorcist. It would be beautiful.”

“So, just, you know. We’ll talk about it.” Alec leans over and presses a kiss against Magnus’ mouth. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Magnus says, and kisses him back.

 

~ ~ ~ ~


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's hoping we can write at least a semi-accurate 9 year old, LOL

 

The rain clears up the next day, but before they can make plans, Stiles finds out that Alec hasn’t seen Star Wars, and insists that they’re going to watch them. “I’ve dealt with enough people in my life not understanding my Star Wars references,” he says, all but shoving Alec onto the sofa. Alec gives Derek a somewhat bemused look, but doesn’t argue.

“Well, if you guys are just going to sit around and watch movies all day, then I’m taking my new younger sister out on the town,” Izzy says, hooking her arm with Cora’s.

Cora’s eyes narrow a little when Izzy makes contact, but then looks from Derek to Alec and then back to Izzy. Alec is obviously a good match for Derek’s pack, so maybe this will work out. “Yeah, okay.” She swings them around and heads for the door decisively.

Once they’re outside, Izzy says, “So, what do you want to do? We should go shopping. I mean, it seems like you guys kind of came here without a lot of stuff, but you’re probably sticking around for a while, right? So you probably need a bunch of things, and I can show you all the good shopping spots in the city.”

Cora purses her mouth and actually looks a little sheepish. “Full disclosure. I have no idea what I’m doing.”

At this, Izzy laughs, but it’s a kind laugh, not a mocking one. “Well, if you came to New York City with fewer than five shirts, I’m going to say that we probably need to get you some clothes.”

“Yeah. Maybe. New sneakers would also be cool.” She lets Izzy lead them along for a minute. “But I meant, you know, everything. I don’t know how to do this. The jungle wasn’t a joke. Just the beetles. Which were mostly a joke. Mostly.”

“To be honest, I don’t actually think there’s a handbook for meeting your adopted brother’s biological family, which he never knew existed, because magic,” Izzy says. “And if there is, I’d be really interested in if it came with a companion version of meeting your biological brother’s adopted family.”

“So, clueless together, okay.” Cora’s quiet another minute. “You really don’t think five shirts is enough?”

“Five shirts can’t even get you through a week without doing laundry, and let me tell you, I _hate_ doing laundry. You can’t even imagine. We used to take turns, but after Jace destroyed my third bra, I had to take over. He didn’t even sort into lights and darks, for crying out loud. Alec doesn’t care because he basically only wears black or dark blue, so I’m stuck there the rest of the time like, the next time you put my red shirt in with my white dress, I will murder you in your sleep.”

“I shove everything in one load, but it’s all T-shirts and jeans.” Cora shrugs. “I think Derek sorts out his whites, at least. Did Jace put your bra in the dryer? That’s the _worst_.”

“It so is! And he’s like ‘I don’t see why it matters’ and I’m like ‘that’s because you don’t have to wear it!’ Seriously, I nearly strangled him with it once. Anyway, five shirts isn’t enough, and T-shirts aren’t the best for fighting in anyway. Not that I’m saying you’re going to get in a lot of fights here,” Izzy adds, “unless, you know, you plan to. Which is fine.”

Cora shrugs. “If people try to kill me, I try to kill them back. Also, if people get grabby, I punch them in the face.”

“Sound policies,” Izzy says, with a serious nod. “Anyway, they’ll be easier to execute in better clothes.”

“Can you fight in everything you wear?” It’s not a judgment, just a question. “It looks too tight to let you move.”

“Oh, if I can’t kick demon ass in it, I don’t buy it,” Izzy says. “It is tight, but the joints are always open, which leaves me unrestricted movement. A form-fitting bodysuit would be different, but as long as your elbows and knees are uncovered, it doesn’t slow you down.”

Cora considers that for a moment, thinking about how hot and amazing Izzy looks all the time. Wearing a T-shirt is comfortable, but still. “Let’s try it.”

Izzy smiles widely and says, “Okay!” before leaning out to hail a taxi and winding up with three. Once they’re on their way, she says, “I’m sorry if I come on too strong, by the way. I’m just really excited to have a sister!”

“It’s fine,” Cora says. “It’s nice to have a sister . . . again.”

“I mean, I _always_ wanted a sister,” Izzy says. “When Max was born a boy, I was so disappointed, I wouldn’t hold him for like the first week.” She laughs and says, “I was _not_ the world’s most forgiving preteen.”

That makes Cora laugh. “I’m not the world’s most forgiving anything, so there’s that.”

“Oh! We should call Clary if we’re going to go shopping. She’s like . . . your sister-in-law now? I guess? I mean, Jace is Derek’s brother, and Clary is his girlfriend. So not in-law _yet_ , but they’re gone for each other, it’s so cute.” Izzy already has her phone out and is texting busily. “Not gone for each other on a Magnus and Alec level, but still, I don’t think anyone in history has ever gotten to that level.”

“There’s like a . . .” Cora huffs because humans can never quite understand things like this, but charges ahead anyway. “You can scent how happy they are together. Magnus and Alec.”

“So you can actually tell how other people feel from their scent?” Izzy asks curiously.

Cora nods. “It’s not super precise, but yeah. There are always a few people we can’t get a fix on, though.”

“That sounds exhausting,” Izzy says. “I mean, it’s tiring enough just _looking_ at people, let alone smelling them.”

Cora blinks at her, taken aback for a moment. “That sounded like something Derek would say,” she says. Suddenly she feels like she might actually be able to do this whole ‘sister’ thing and have it work.

Izzy laughs. “Well, he _is_ my brother. It stands to reason we’d have some things in common. And don’t get Alec started. He can’t even go to the supermarket without wondering why he has to deal with the plebes.”

“Derek likes to go to one that’s open until midnight, and shop at eleven thirty just to avoid people.”

“If they hadn’t invented the self-checkout, Alec would probably still be making me and Jace go for him.”

“Oh my God, yes! Can’t Derek just glare away the small talk? Once he left food at the store because the self-checkout got confused by his produce and he didn’t want to talk to the clerk.”

Izzy is laughing. “We’re all a bunch of social rejects, I guess.” She sobers a little and says, “It must be worse for you, though. I mean, how did you wind up living in the rainforest? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Cora shrugs. “I was eleven when the fire happened. I just . . . freaked out and ran and kept running. Forgot how to be anything but a wolf for a while. I thought I was still being hunted. And you can cover a lot of ground on four paws.”

“That sounds awful,” Izzy says.

“It wasn’t good. But I think I had it better than Derek or Laura. I didn’t care about having a pack, or missing anyone, or being lonely. Surviving took up all the room that might have been filled with anything else. At least for a while.”

“Must’ve been quite a shock coming back.”

Cora nods. “People are so uptight about things like wearing clothes and cooking your food before you eat it.”

Izzy snickers. “Well, the former doesn’t matter to me, but I’m afraid we do have to insist on the latter.”

“Cooking it at all is just overcooking it,” Cora says loftily.

“That’s disgusting,” Izzy says cheerfully, “and I’m pretty sure there’s at least a fifty percent chance you’re messing with me.”

Cora grins. “Stiles is never sure, either.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s sure some of the time,” Izzy replies. “I mean, like the thing about the piranhas hunting for you. That’s pretty much definitely not true.” She pauses. “I think.”

“They’re piranhas,” Cora says, as if that explains everything.

“Riiiiight.” Izzy looks at her with narrowed eyes. “Don’t forget that I’m going to be the one offering you fashion advice today.”

“Oh, that’s playing dirty. I like it!” Cora smirks. “You can’t train piranhas. Or if you can, I don’t know how. But don’t tell Stiles.”

“I’m totally going to tell Stiles. I’m going to tell him we went to the aquarium and you showed me how to do it and I was amazed that you weren’t messing with us.”

Cora holds out her arm and says, “Let’s roll.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

Magnus rules out two more warlocks on his list before running up against a third who he thinks might be a possibility. The warlock, who goes by the name of Felix Glass, had lived in New York at the right time and is known to be good at memory spells. However, he refuses to talk to Magnus because of ‘an old feud’, which Magnus doesn’t seem to want to give details on. Alec and Derek decide to pay him a visit themselves to see if he remembers Derek.

Stiles is miffed that they won’t let him come along, and Magnus is out on business so he can’t work on his magic. Alec pacifies him by telling him that he can hang out in the Institute’s library or records room. “There’s probably lots of stuff in there that would interest you,” he says, and turns away before he can see the excited gleam in Stiles’ eye.

They’re gone the entire afternoon and well into the evening. Magnus has given them a list of Glass’ usual haunts, but he’s not exactly easy to track down. Once they do, it takes over an hour of intense grilling before they decide he’s telling the truth about not having been involved. It’s late, and they’re both tired and frustrated. Alec suggests they grab dinner, and Derek says they should probably just pick something up, since God knows whether or not Stiles has eaten. He’s a little guilty about how long they’ve left him at the Institute to fend for himself.

Stiles isn’t in Alec’s room or the library, so Alec says, “I guess he must’ve found some way to occupy himself with the records room,” and beckons for Derek to follow him. They go down a hallway and then he pushes open a set of double doors, only to stop in his tracks. “What the shit?”

“Oh, hey!” Stiles says, his voice muffled by the highlighter in his mouth. “How was the, uh, I’ve forgotten what you were doing, I hope it wasn’t important. What’s up?”

“What the hell are you doing in here?” Alec asks, and Derek peers around him to see that the room is a complete disaster. There are cabinets open, files stacked everywhere, and at least fifty sheets of paper taped to the wall. Books are piled haphazardly on every open surface. And Stiles, for his part, looks completely oblivious to the chaos he’s standing in the middle of.

“We went to see a warlock to see if he had my memories, and he didn’t,” Derek says at the same time. “What mystery did you unearth?”

“There is so much cool shit in here, it’s nuts!” Stiles picks up a file and shakes it. “Unsolved cases dating all the way back to the seventies, all types of different monsters – ”

“Yes, but. What are you _doing_?” Alec asks, looking around the mess that used to be his records room. Derek is looking around too, but for a different reason, trying to see the strings that tie everything together, the different colors of highlighter being used in multiple places.

“You told me I could look at stuff in the records room,” Stiles says blankly.

“Look at stuff! Not take out every single piece of paper and make a giant mess!”

“Lydia said it was okay.” There’s a hint of smugness to Stiles’ voice.

“It’s not Lydia’s file room,” Alec growls.

Derek reaches out and takes the highlighter from Stiles, holding it up to draw everyone’s attention. “What’s orange?”

“Huh? Oh. Orange is people last seen getting into a taxi.”

“Yellow?”

“Yellow are the people whose bodies _were_ found, or at least _parts_ of the body are found, there’s a whole system to the yellow symbols to indicate which part, it’s probably better if you don’t look too closely at some of those pictures, there’s one guy where they only found an ear – ”

“Wait,” Alec says. He’s frowning at two of the sheets of paper. “These two – you think these are connected? Why?”

“Well, because you – okay, look, you have these two guys who disappeared three years apart and one of them you never found and the other guy you only found an ear, and you _thought_ the guy with the ear was because of this flesh-eating demon but it couldn’t have been, see, because the demon was actually in Los Angeles at the time – there’s another file, it would take a long time to explain – anyway, he can’t have killed ear guy, which means ear guy was probably killed by this _other_ demon, and – ”

Alec looks at Derek for help as Stiles rambles on. Derek’s trying not to smile, but he does interrupt. “Are there any recent victims or likely to be _new_ victims?”

“What? No. Why?”

“Just in case.” Derek shrugs and turns to Alec. “He’s solving cold cases. For fun.”

“Yes, but why does that involve destroying my file room? You said Lydia gave you permission to move things around? What on earth could have possessed her – ”

Stiles has already turned back to the wall. “I dunno, she said I could do whatever after I told her who killed some guy named Jonas Redcrown – ”

“Wait.” Now Alec looks like he’s been smacked in the face with a board. “You solved _what_?”

“How old was that mystery?” Derek asks.

“From ’97, why?” Stiles looks between the two of them. “Is it important?”

Alec rubs both hands over his face. “You – you solved the murder of a _Shadowhunter_. Do you have any idea how – when one of our own is killed, we put _everything_ we have behind finding the responsible party, and then you just – you just walk into my file room and solve it in _six hours_?”

Stiles rubs a hand over the back of his head. “You were just looking at it through the wrong lens, you were fixated on catching that Eidolon demon because you were sure it was responsible, so you ignored – I’m not using the specific ‘you’, by the way, I mean, you personally would have been like four years old – anyway, nobody ever thought of someone _framing_ a demon for their crime. I mean, who does that?”

“People who want to get away with a crime?” Derek suggests.

“Well, yeah, obviously, but still. Framing a demon seems like a terrible idea.”

Alec sinks into a chair, knocking over a pile of books on his way by. “You solved. The murder. Of Jonas Redcrown.”

“You sound upset,” Derek says, a little cautious.

“More like . . . stunned,” Alec says.

“I told you he’s smart.”

“You did,” Alec agrees. “But wouldn’t you be surprised if he had done the same thing to you?”

“He did.” Derek heaves a sigh. “And I was surprised. But I also hadn’t been warned.”

“Nobody took your warnings seriously!” Alec lowers his voice, seeing that Stiles has already dived back into a file cabinet. “You sounded like a lovesick puppy!”

“That’s not my fault!” Derek replies, just as emphatically and quietly.

“How is it not your fault that you sound like a lovesick puppy!”

“It’s not my fault you didn’t listen!”

“Oh my God it’s not even the same guy’s ear!” Stiles yells suddenly.

“Wait. What?” Derek asks.

“Ears are actually very unique, you know, a lot of people think they’re going to be the new fingerprints, because fingerprint technology is way less accurate than most people think, and ears aren’t affected by your facial expression _and_ they don’t degrade with time the way retinas do – though I’ve seen some old people with droopy ears, let me tell you – anyway, the point is, the ear that they found didn’t belong to the guy they thought it did which means he shouldn’t be in yellow, he should be in green, and that changes _everything_!”

“It should change everything after you’ve eaten,” Derek says.

“Oh, yeah, food would be great, just – put it over there – ”

“I don’t care what Lydia said, if you eat in here, I will tie you up and string you from the ceiling,” Alec tells him. Derek laughs and just grabs Stiles by the collar, towing him out of the room.

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

Alec and Izzy are in the middle of a dramatic Scrabble battle with Magnus and Derek (the former of whom keeps changing his tiles with magic, and the latter of whom keeps trying to use words in other languages) when there’s a knock on the door and Jace pokes his head in. “Look who I brought to visit!” he says, and Max trots in behind him.

“Hey, Max!” Izzy is immediately on her feet, scooping Max into a hug. “How’s Mumbai?”

“So hot and all it ever does is rain!” Max complains.

Izzy passes Max over to Alec, who gives him a hug before setting him down and then kneeling so they’re on eye level. “That must make it hard for you to set things on fire, huh?” he teases, and Max sticks his tongue out.

Derek watches curiously, but he doesn’t ask any questions yet. He can tell that Max is related to them by scent.

“What are you doing here?” Izzy says.

“Field trip!” Max says.

Jace grins and squeezes Max’s shoulder. “I told Maryse I would help him work on his runes today and asked if she minded if I did it here, in case a mission came up. She made me promise I wouldn’t leave his side,” he adds, with a slight eye roll.

Izzy blinks up at Jace and the smiles. “Thank you.”

Magnus tilts his head to one side and gives Jace a long look. “Interesting.”

Jace scowls at him. “What’s interesting?”

“Oh, I’m just trying to decide if there’s a glamour on you or if this is actually Jace Wayland standing in front of us.”

Alec throws a Scrabble tile at Magnus. “Knock it off.”

Max notices the new people and peers around Alec’s leg, hovering between shy and curious. “Who are they?” He leans in close to Alec’s ear. “One of them’s sparkly,” he adds in a tone that’s clearly supposed to be for Alec’s ears only, but everyone in the room can hear.

“Oh, uh . . .” Alec is unprepared for this, since he had figured Maryse would never let Max be in the same room with them until she had thoroughly explained why he wasn’t to associate with Magnus or Derek. “So, this is Magnus Bane, he’s my boyfriend and he’s a warlock.”

“Hello, little one,” Magnus says, smiling at Max.

“Hello.” Max is clearly trying to sound adult. “I’m not little. I’m average height for my age.”

“Compared to your own age, you’re average. Compared to me, you’re little. But I can call you ‘average one’ if you like that better.”

Izzy and Derek both have to hide their laughter. Max frowns, realizing he’s just been bettered but not sure how. “Maybe you could call me Max?”

“Why, certainly,” Magnus says.

Max nods firmly. “So if you’re Alec’s boyfriend, does that mean you two kiss and stuff?”

“As often as possible,” Magnus says, and Alec stifles a groan in the background.

Max makes a face and says, “Bleh.”

Jace snorts and says, “You can’t say ‘bleh’ every time you see two adults kissing. You’ll get it when you’re older. Someday you’ll meet a girl you want to kiss. Or a guy, I guess,” he adds.

“Nuh uh.” Max turns back to Magnus. “Mom and Dad have never let me meet a warlock. Can you show me some magic?”

“Sure.” Magnus snaps his fingers to produce a ball of blue flame, which then immediately sweeps across the table, catching all the Scrabble tiles and spinning them into a small tornado.

“Oh, come on,” Izzy complains. “I was winning!”

“You’re such a cheater,” Derek states flatly.

Max, for his part, is clearly delighted. The pieces fall onto the table in neat little piles. “That was awesome!” Max says.

“Well, perhaps next time you’re in New York, I can show you my workshop,” Magnus says.

Max, who’s clearly done being shy, moves in right next to Magnus. “You have a workshop? Do you do spells there? Is all of your magic blue? Are you sparkly because of the magic?”

“Yes, yes, most of it, and no, I’m sparkly because I like to wear sparkles,” Magnus says.

It takes Max a moment to sort through those answers. Then he grins up at Magnus. “That’s great!” He turns to Alec and says, “I like your boyfriend. Even if you kiss a lot.”

“We don’t kiss a _lot_ ,” Alec grumbles, and then Magnus gets a hold of his collar and pulls him in for a _very_ thorough liplock.

Max makes a prolonged noise of disgust. Since spending more time with Magnus clearly isn’t going to happen at the moment, he looks over at Izzy and then notices Derek. “Who are you?”

Derek smiles, because this kid is hilarious. “I’m Derek.” He glances over at Izzy, not sure how he should introduce himself in connection to them. “I’m glad to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Max says, shaking his hand like a miniature adult.

Izzy sits back down at the table and pulls Max into her lap. “Derek is your big brother,” she says. “He got bitten by a werewolf when he was young and he had to go live somewhere else until he learned how to werewolf, but now he’s back.”

“So you used to be a Shadowhunter like us?” Max asks.

“Yep. Average height and everything,” Derek teases.

“I’m sorry,” Max says, looking down.

“Why?” Derek asks.

“Because you can’t use runes anymore, and everyone says, even the books say, that that’s really bad. That it’s bad if we change.”

“Oh,” Derek says. “Well, I’ll tell you a secret. Being a werewolf is pretty cool. I liked being a Shadowhunter, but it’s okay that I changed.”

Max looks a little suspicious. “I don’t think the books would be wrong.”

“Sure, they can,” Derek says. “When people learn new things, it sometimes makes books wrong. The people that write the books can only write what they know. If they learn something later, then the book is wrong.”

“That’s true, you know,” Izzy says. “When I was learning science, a lot of the books had information in them that scientists later proved wasn’t true. We’re always learning new things about the universe.”

“So . . . now I’m smarter than the books!” Max says. “Does that mean I don’t have to go to classes anymore?”

Alec rolls his eyes. “Have you learned the difference between the precision and the accuracy rune yet?”

Max just pouts at Alec without answering and then turns back to Derek. “Can you change any time you want? Does it hurt? If it doesn’t hurt, can I see?”

Derek takes a cue from Magnus and replies, “Yes, no, and sure.” Derek stands and backs away a few feet, suddenly glad that Magnus had given him that charm that allowed him to bring his clothes with him. A moment later, there was a large black wolf looking at Max, almost at eye level. He twitches his nose and makes a sneezing noise. It’s a visual that he knows will be disarming, without being animalistic like a lolling tongue.

“Wowwwwww,” Max says, reaching out to pet him.

“Don’t just manhandle him,” Alec says. “He’s still a person.”

Max pulls his hand back and asks solemnly, “Can I pet you?”

Derek nods and takes a step closer in clear invitation. All of Max’s solemnity is instantly gone as he pats Derek on the head and rubs behind his ears, smiling happily.

Alec looks over at Jace, who’s leaning against the wall while he observes. “Thanks.”

Jace nods. “Yeah, no problem, bro.”

Derek lets Max do as he likes for a couple of moments and then moves closer, tucking his nose underneath Max’s ear and taking in a quick little breath through his nose before moving back. Max squeals and giggles. “That tickles!” he protests, so Derek leans in to do it again.

“This is the best field trip ever!” Max declares, five minutes later, after he’s been reduced to a squealing mess and Alec has finally ‘rescued’ him. “I can’t wait to tell Mom all about it!”

The adults in the room freeze as one, envisioning how this is going to go. Magnus recovers first, and says brightly, “I’m sure she’ll be glad to hear you had such a good time!”

Alec clears his throat. “Look, uh, Max. Mom might not be happy to hear that you spent so much time with Downworlders. So maybe don’t mention that to her.”

“But doesn’t she like Magnus and Derek?” Max asks, clearly confused. “How can she not like Derek if he’s our brother?”

“Well, remember how the books said that change is bad?” Alec replies. “Mom thinks that since Derek changed, he can’t be our brother anymore.”

“So she hasn’t learned that the books are wrong?”

“Exactly,” Izzy says, “and we’ve been trying to tell her about that, but sometimes it’s hard for people to learn new things.”

“And Mom is super old,” Max says, nodding sagely.

Derek, who has shifted forms back, laughs and nods. “Super old.”

“And the older you get, the harder it is to learn new things,” Alec agrees. He shoots Magnus a look as the warlock opens his mouth, and he immediately closes it.

“So we can’t tell Mom until she learns it herself?” Max asks.

“Exactly,” Alec says, and ruffles Max’s hair. “Until then, it’ll be our secret. Okay?”

“Okay,” Max says.

Derek chews on his lower lip for a minute before crouching down so he can look Max in the eye. “But if she finds out somehow, even if you tell her by accident, we won’t be mad. And if she gets mad at you, I want you to tell her that we’re the ones who told you to keep it a secret, so she won’t be mad at you, either. Okay?”

“Okay,” Max says happily. “So where do you live? Are you a wolf all the time there? Do you know a lot of other werewolves?”

“Right now I live with Magnus, but he’s going to help me find my own place. I’m not always a wolf at home. It’s hard to work the coffee maker and order takeout when you only have paws.” He reaches out and pokes Max in the belly.

“Do all werewolves live in apartments? Do you turn into a wolf every full moon? Have you ever bitten anyone? Have you – ”

“You know what, you,” Alec says, snagging Max by the collar, “need to learn some manners. Ask your questions one at a time, and don’t ask impolite things like ‘have you ever bitten anyone’. That’s rude and you know it.”

Max looks contrite. “Sorry,” he says to Derek.

“It’s fine. Little boys are curious.” He looks at Alec and says, “Let’s just make sure he’s never in the same room as Stiles unsupervised.”

“Oh, God,” Alec mumbles.

Max perks up. “What’s a Stiles?”

Derek grins despite himself. “Have a seat, little brother. I have a lot to teach you.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beacon Hills, ahoy!
> 
> Scott's kind of a jerk in this chapter. It's all Deaton's fault, though. Sorry, Scott fans. I'll make it up to you. <3

 

“So, since Alec and Izzy are busy today with their Shadowhunter duties, I figured this would be an excellent time to head back to your part of the world,” Magnus says, pulling on a red velvet jacket. “Exorcise some teenagers, maybe do a little gardening, et cetera.”

“Oh, uh . . . can you actually get us there?” Stiles says. “I heard Alec say you could only open a portal to somewhere you’ve been.”

“Correct,” Magnus says. “And I have not ever been within a hundred miles of Beacon Hills, because I know better. However, I have spent a great deal of time in San Francisco, so I can certainly get us a lot closer than we are now.”

“Okay, cool.” Stiles shuts his book. He doesn’t exactly look excited about the idea. To be honest he has zero inclination to go back to Beacon Hills, but he _does_ want to see his father. He’s been keeping Tom up to date with several phone calls every day, but it’s not the same as seeing him. “Derek, you coming?”

“Yeah,” Derek says, because he certainly isn’t going to let Stiles go back to Beacon Hills alone. He grabs his shoes and starts lacing them up. “Cora?”

“Hard pass,” Cora says, not looking up. Derek gives a snort of laughter but doesn’t try to persuade her.

Magnus’ portal takes them to a club in San Francisco, which is basically deserted since it’s the middle of the day. As soon as they appear, however, a girl runs over to give him a hug and a cheerful ‘long time no see’. Magnus gives her a kiss on the cheek. “Did you get my message, butterfly?”

“Yep! Car’s gassed up and waiting. If you decide to portal home from Beacon Hills just call me and I’ll send someone up to get it.”

“Perfect.” Magnus takes the keys out of her hand and gestures for Derek and Stiles to follow him. The car waiting is an actual Bentley, and Stiles practically starts drooling over it. “Would you like to drive?” Magnus asks, and Stiles practically shoots into orbit with excitement.

Derek gives an amused huff, glad that Stiles is a good driver and he doesn’t have to worry about the car. “Do you want the front or the back seat?”

“Oh, I would never dream of denying you the pleasure,” Magnus says, opening the back door.

Magnus is treated to the full scale Hale eyeroll, but Derek does get in the front seat. Stiles is practically hyperventilating as the car slides out onto the road. “Relax,” Magnus says. “This car couldn’t get in an accident if you paid her. She’s likely smarter than any of us.”

“That is so cool,” Stiles says.

“Besides, have you ever been in accident?” Derek asks. “You know, one that wasn’t caused by Jennifer Blake summoning a hurricane.”

Stiles shrugs. “First time I got in a car, I hit the only post in the entire parking lot.”

Derek laughs. “I hit a tree. That was like the size of my father’s truck.”

“God, I miss my dad.” Stiles chews on his lower lip as they head out of the city. “I don’t know how much longer I can stay in New York and leave my dad in Beacon Hills unsupervised . . .”

Derek frowns. “He’s a grown man, Stiles.”

“That’s not the point! Hellmouth!”

“It’s not a Hellmouth!”

“Yes, it is, and I know that it’s not like my dad is going to ditch me, and skype and telephones are a thing that exist, along with portals and sentient cars, apparently, but I’m kind of going bugshit not being able to check on him. It, uh, it’s possible that I need therapy. Like, a lot of it.”

“Possible,” Derek agrees.

“In my defense, last time I sat down with a counselor and tried to talk out my issues, she turned out to be a Druid working for the evil alpha, so . . .”

Magnus rubs his temples. “Who was _that_?”

“Uh, Marin Morrell? She probably has a warlock name but I don’t know what it is.”

“Forget being a Hellmouth,” Magnus mutters. “Beacon Hills is a hell _hole_.”

Stiles shakes his head, eases the car onto the highway, and focuses on driving. He doesn’t even need to, the car’s ride is so smooth. And, as Magnus had said, it at times has a mind of its own, sometimes switching lanes just as he’s thinking about doing so. When they get to Beacon Hills, he doesn’t stop to ask anybody else where they should go first, instead heading to his father’s house. He hadn’t mentioned that they were coming back, but the cruiser is in the driveway, so he’s home.

As soon as Magnus steps out of the car and his foot touches the ground, he gives a little shiver. “This . . . this is not promising,” he murmurs, but Stiles is already jogging towards the door.

“What isn’t?” Derek asks, as he follows Stiles towards the door, but hangs back. Beacon Hills smells like home to him. It probably always will.

“Just . . . the feeling of this place. The currents underneath it. It’s as if the ground itself cries out in agony.” Magnus shakes his head. “What in God’s name has happened to this town?”

“Hunters, really.” Derek shakes his head. “No, that’s a short answer, but not a useful one. I think the biggest thing is that my family, which was a peaceful pack with a longstanding history, were murdered in cold blood. That might not be the _first_ thing, though.”

“No.” Magnus kneels down and rests his hand against the ground. “It goes much deeper than that. But I’ll know more when we get to the Nemeton.”

Stiles glances over his shoulder as he lets himself into the house. “Hey, Dad? I’m home!”

Tom Stilinski comes around the corner and immediately gets him in a bear hug. “Hey, you! I didn’t know you were heading back.”

“Yeah, uh, it takes less planning when you know someone who can make wormholes,” Stiles says, clinging to his father.

Derek, who can hear the reunion, deliberately delays their entrance for a few moments so they can have it in peace. Then he moves forward, giving the door a quiet knock to alert Stiles and his father of their entrance. Tom lets go of Stiles and looks up at Derek. “Mr. Hale,” he says, but he’s smiling, and offers a hand for Derek to shake. “Good to see you.”

Derek shakes it. “Thank you, sir. It’s good to see you, too.” He steps back and gestures to Magnus. “This is Magnus Bane.”

“High Warlock of Brooklyn,” Magnus adds, extending his hand. Stilinski shakes it, although he’s giving Magnus and his purple hair, flowing outfit, and many necklaces the side-eye. That doesn’t seem to disturb Magnus in the slightest.

“Nice to meet you,” Tom says, before almost immediately losing interest and turning back to his son. “God, look at you. I know you said you were feeling better, but you actually . . .”

“No longer look like the walking dead?” Stiles supplies, when he sees his father struggling for a description that’s not insulting.

“Perhaps we should sit before I explain about that,” Magnus says.

Tom gives him a narrow-eyed look, but then nods. “Sure. Come on in. You want anything to drink? I’ll make a fresh pot of coffee,” he adds, since Stiles is obviously going to want coffee.

Magnus returns the narrow look with an unconcerned one and enters when invited. “Coffee would be lovely.”

“You can only say that because you haven’t had his coffee,” Stiles says.

“Cupcake, I can say that because if I don’t like it, I can switch the contents of the cup with coffee from a lovely little shop in Indonesia.”

Stiles thinks about that. “Can you switch out mine?”

“The coffee I make is fine,” Sheriff Stilinski says loudly.

Amused, Magnus says, “I’ll procure you some Indonesian coffee at a later date.”

“Well, if you let my dad make it, it’ll still be horrible,” Stiles says, rolling his eyes. His father doesn’t dignify that with a response, starting the coffee maker and then sitting down at the table. “So, uh, apparently the whole thing where I drowned myself was a terrible idea.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Tom says.

Magnus places his hands flat on the table. “It was not a terrible idea. That is one of the things you need to keep in mind about Alan Change. He often has clever and very effective ideas. The representational sacrifice was, obviously, a successful solution to an interesting problem. The lack of safe follow through is when the ‘terrible idea’ starts.” He shrugs a little, waves one hand, and adds, “When dealing with magic, it’s best to be specific.”

Sheriff Stilinski is frowning. “Okay. Well, safe follow through sounds good to me. What is it that we need to do?”

“He already did part of it,” Stiles says, gesturing to Magnus. “Uh, apparently the whole thing kind of left my brain wide open with a ‘good eats here’ sign tacked up over it.”

When Tom just continues to frown, Magnus clarifies. “Things of the Shadow World are attracted to the Nemeton. Many of those things don’t have the corporeal bodies they need to act in this world. People who are attached to the Nemeton, such as three teenagers who were sacrificed to it, become very attractive targets. One of those things followed Stiles to New York and came to my attention when it started to try to get past the wards of my apartment. I have since taken steps to protect Stiles from other such beings.”

“Oh. Okay, that’s great. Thanks,” Tom says. “Is that why you came here? So you could do the same for Scott and Allison?”

Magnus nods. “And then have some words with Alan. After that, I’ll see what, if anything, can be done about the Nemeton.”

Tom frowns at Magnus, then at his son. “So you’re saying that Alan knew this was going to happen? That he could have taken steps to prevent it?”

“Apparently,” Stiles says, then adds, “and I want to see him before we go see Scott.”

Magnus considers for a minute. “Whatever order you wish to proceed in, Stiles.”

“Great.” Stiles gets to his feet and heads to the pantry for a travel mug. He swerves on the way, opens the refrigerator, and transforms back into his usual self. “Oh my God! Dad! _Why_ is there a bucket of KFC in here? Do you have any idea how much cholesterol is in one of those biscuits – ”

“Stiles, for the love of God,” Tom groans.

“I am making you dinner tonight, do not even think about getting fast food somewhere, there is going to be asparagus and you are going to like it!”

Magnus starts to laugh. Derek at least has the sense to hide his mouth behind a hand.

“Whatever you say, bucko.” Tom shakes his head. “Now, I have some work to do, so I’ve gotta get going. I’ll see you tonight?”

“Yeah. Be here by six. For the asparagus.”

Tom pulls him into another hug, then surprises Derek by clapping a hand down on his shoulder before he departs. Once he’s gone, Magnus hands Stiles a colorful, reusable mug. “Coffee from Indonesia. As requested.”

Stiles looks at the mug, looks at Magnus, and says, “You have to teach me how to do that.”

“I’ll see what I can do. I suspect you’re at your most dangerous when fully caffeinated. So where are we going?” he adds, as they head out towards the car.

“Deaton’s always at his clinic. I think he might actually live there. By the way, why would a warlock become a veterinarian? Because he actually is one. I mean, it’s not just a cover. He’s a full-fledged veterinarian.”

“When we take up hobbies, they often become careers for a brief time. Especially if we’re interested in living the mundane world for a while. For instance, I did spend a decade or so in fashion design.”

“Color me shocked,” Derek says.

“Which decade?” Stiles asks.

“ _Not_ the eighties.”

Stiles snorts and shakes his head as he heads to Deaton’s clinic. He’s hoping it’s quiet, but there are at least two people there with their pets when he gets there. The secretary gives them the side-eye, but she knows Stiles, so she tells them they can wait in Deaton’s office. Stiles is fiddling with his phone as they wait. Deaton comes in with a pleasant smile, and then he sees Magnus. “Oh. Hello, Magnus. It’s been a long time.”

“Alan.” Magnus nods. “Lovely place you’ve got here,” he adds, waving a hand around and sounding completely sincere. “The wards must have been a nightmare to set up, what with all the strangers coming and going.”

“It took a little ingenuity, yes,” Deaton agrees.

Stiles grows impatient with the small talk within ten seconds and interrupts, “Magnus thinks you’re a shady motherfucker.”

Deaton looks at Magnus with raised eyebrows. Magnus shrugs. “He speaks the truth.”

“What brings you to Beacon Hills?” Deaton asks.

“I wanted to ask you face to face what the hell you thought you were doing.” Magnus walks around the office, running his fingers over the shelves, occasionally picking something up and then setting it back down in a different place. “Unshielded children connected to a Nemeton? Honestly, Alan.”

“I did warn them,” Deaton says.

“Warning us that we were going to have darkness around our hearts is not the same thing as warning us that we could be possessed by God-knows-what!” Stiles snaps.

“I understand that the nature of what you did left them vulnerable to influence for a time, but there’s no reason not to sever the connection or offer any form of effective warding afterwards,” Magnus says.

Deaton picks up one of the things that Magnus had moved and moves it back. “Giving a jump start to the Nemeton like that is likely to attract all sorts of creatures. Wouldn’t it be easier to deal with them afterwards if I knew where they were going to be?”

“You could always ask for assistance, rather than serve children up to the cause, which honestly I think is utter bullshit.” Magnus leans a hip against Deaton’s desk and folds his arms over his chest. “It’s petty rationalization.”

“You haven’t changed much in fifty years,” Deaton says, smiling. “Still the same old bleeding heart.”

“And you always change, but in the end you always get bored and fall back on using others to amuse yourself.” Magnus waves a dismissive hand. “I can’t say I’m ashamed to be a bleeding heart, but I doubt you’re ashamed either.”

“Which honestly leads me to wonder why we’re having this discussion at all,” Deaton says.

Magnus’ face goes cold. “Because one of the things you practically invited in followed this young man not only away from the Nemeton but clear across the country.” He takes a step towards Deaton. “And then it set about hammering my wards. I’m not ashamed, but now I’m angry, Alan. Your attempt to amuse yourself endangered _my_ people.”

“So have you come to teach me a lesson?” Deaton’s still smiling. “You might be more powerful, Magnus, but I’m a lot older than you. I’ve perfected tricks you’ve never dreamed of, and never would.”

“Some people can’t be taught. I’m here to clean up the mess you made. I will handle the two children you left unprotected, and I will handle the Nemeton. And you will not touch it again.” With that, Magnus steps back.

“If you insist,” Deaton says.

“I plan on making sure,” Magnus tells him.

“You know what I plan on?” Stiles interrupts, and holds up his phone. “Playing this entire conversation for Scott, so next time I tell him you can’t be fucking trusted, he might actually believe me.”

Derek opens his mouth to comment on the likelihood that this will work, but then keeps it shut. Deaton looks faintly nonplussed. “You know, I truly was acting in your best interests,” he says. “We did save your parents.”

Stiles nods slowly, brow faintly furrowed as he considers that. “Yeah . . .” He thinks about that for a few moments and then flips Deaton the bird. “Sit and spin, asshole.”

“I _do_ like him,” Magnus informs Deaton with relish before turning to follow him. Once they’re outside, he claps his hands and says, “Well, show me this Nemeton of yours. I think I’d rather see it first so I can make sure nothing has gotten through before we tackle your friends.”

“Yeah, okay.” Stiles seems moody as he gets behind the wheel of the Bentley. Derek doesn’t say anything, because he’s not sure exactly what Stiles is upset about, and they have a lot to do. So the car ride mainly passes in silence. Magnus is growing steadily less comfortable as they drive into the Preserve, and eventually Stiles pulls over and parks the car. Freezing pins and needles seem to crawl up Magnus’ body as soon as he sets foot outside.

“What is it?” Stiles asks, seeing the look on his face.

“How far are we from the Nemeton?” Magnus asks.

“I dunno, probably two or three miles,” Stiles says.

“I can feel it this far out . . . that is not a promising sign, cupcake. The energy surrounding it is seeping out into the atmosphere. That won’t hurt anyone or anything around here per se, but it doesn’t bode well for the sort of creatures that it might be attracting.”

“So it’s glowing like a landing strip, not just a beacon,” Derek says. “Great.”

“Well,” Magnus says, “Shall we? I love . . . hiking,” he says, his nose wrinkling as he examines their surroundings. Derek gives a snort of laughter, and Stiles snickers but starts into the forest. They walk in silence for a little while. Derek starts to feel uncomfortable, too, feeling the energies that Magnus had talked about even though he wouldn’t have been able to put a name to the feeling.

“Here we go,” Stiles says, gesturing to the clearing with the enormous tree stump.

“Oh.” Magnus gives a quiet little laugh. “Oh, no, this is _much_ worse than I anticipated.”

Derek’s entire body is starting to tense, and he gives in to a low growl. “How much worse.”

“Something has, indeed, come through here. A Void Spirit. A _greater demon_. I’m going to take Alan Change out behind the gym and kick the shit out of him.”

“What’s a greater demon?” Stiles asks, his voice thin with worry. “I mean, aside from ‘exactly what it sounds like’.”

“Void spirits thrive off chaos and calamity,” Magnus says. “All they want to do is cause pain. They are incredibly powerful and virtually indestructible. They can be banished back to the Void, but it’s quite difficult. They can also be imprisoned, if you know the way to do it. I don’t doubt that one was imprisoned here, and what happened shook it free.”

“How are we going to capture it again?” Derek asks.

“Oh, we aren’t, puppy,” Magnus says. “We’re calling your brother. This is, after all, what Shadowhunters were created for. If they think I can offer assistance, I’ll be happy to do so.”

“Demonic hot potato,” Stiles says, nodding. “Nice.”

Amused, Magnus says, “I prefer to call it ‘passing the buck’.”

“I prefer to call it ‘getting away from the spooky tree’,” Derek interjects. Magnus laughs again and agrees, turning to walk back towards the car.

“D’you think Deaton knew about the Void thing?” Stiles asks.

“Oh, I doubt it very much. Alan Change might be a shady motherfucker, but when he gets bored, he plays with imps and faeries, not Greater Demons. You’d have to be either suicidal or stupid to summon one of those, and Alan is neither of those things.”

“So he was only planning to let something nibble at semi-vital parts of Stiles instead of having him eaten whole? I’m so comforted,” Derek says.

“Your sarcasm is appreciated, puppy, but it’s because you have no notion of what a greater demon really is. Trust me. Nobody in their right mind wants to deal with a greater demon.”

“So Shadowhunters aren’t in their right minds?” Stiles asks.

Magnus makes a seesaw gesture with his hand. “Depends on who you ask. But that’s a story for another time. Now that I know exactly what’s happening, shall we go see your friends?”

“Yeah,” Stiles says. “Okay.”

“If you’re going to see Scott, I’m going to find an elsewhere to be,” Derek says, trying not to scowl. It’s not that he _dislikes_ Scott – well, sometimes he does. His feelings around Scott are too complex to put into words. Admiration, sometimes. Envy, a lot of the time. Annoyance, anger, the bitter feelings of repeated rejection. Despite how many times they’ve worked together at this point, he has a feeling that this will go better without him.

Stiles shoots him a glance, then nods and looks away. “Yeah, uh . . . meet me back at the house later? You can have dinner with me and my pops.”

“Okay. Sure. I’m going to see if I can track down Peter, make sure he isn’t causing trouble. I, uh, I’ll see you later.” Derek moves in like he’s going to give Stiles a hug, but then just ducks his head and turns to jog the other way.

Magnus rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything about it. They walk the rest of the way in silence, and Stiles gets behind the wheel. He taps nervously at the steering wheel as he drives. Magnus lets him have his silence. His feet drag as he heads up the path to Scott’s house. For a minute, he half-expects that Deaton will be there, already pleading his case, but he’s not. Scott’s alone in the house, and he gives Stiles a hug that lasts several minutes. Stiles hugs back. Then Scott sees Magnus, and blinks several times.

“Hey, uh, this is Magnus,” Stiles says. “He’s a warlock we met in New York.”

Magnus gives Scott a polite nod. “It came to my attention that my assistance was needed in your once aptly named town.”

Since Scott just looks a little confused, Stiles says, “Remember the whole thing about us always carrying darkness around our hearts, and such? Yeah, uh, it turns out that that was kind of bullshit. Magnus fixed me up. No more screaming nightmares. Or, uh, at least a lot fewer. And as a bonus, I’m no longer at risk of being possessed by demons. Good times all around.”

“Sure, come on in,” Scott says, frowning. He ushers them inside. “Demons?”

Magnus follows, looking around curiously as if a basic middle-class American home is completely foreign to him. “Yes. Demons. On the whole, very nasty. Has no one explained things to you?”

“Uh, nothing about demons,” Scott says, shooting Stiles a glance to see if he knows what’s going on.

“Oh, little duckling, let me give you the abbreviated version. You, as a werewolf, are part of the Shadow World. This made up of unearthly beings, including demons. They are never up to any good. Sometimes they like to take living, physical hosts. With me so far?”

Scott nods. “Yeah, okay.”

“Some of the powerful ones are very difficult to kill, so they’re usually trapped or evicted back into the Void. One such was trapped in the Nemeton. And now it’s free.”

“Oh.” Scott heaves a sigh and looks at Stiles. “I guess Dr. Deaton did warn us that this sort of thing might happen.”

“Yeah, but he didn’t warn us that we were leaving our brains wide open to possession,” Stiles says, not really looking at Scott.

“The fact that there was a greater demon, a true Void Spirit, trapped in the tree was not Alan’s fault,” Magnus says. “The fact that he left all of you not only open but attractive to possession with a simple but melodramatically unclear message about ‘darkness in your heart’ is very much his fault.”

Scott frowns at him, then turns to Stiles. “Who is this guy again? How do we know he knows what he’s talking about?”

“He’s Derek’s brother’s boyfriend,” Stiles says, and Scott blinks at him. “Yeah, remember how we went to New York to find Derek’s family? Smashing success. He has a brother and a sister who hunt demons, and said brother has a boyfriend, and this is him.”

“Okay.” Scott gives Magnus a wary look. “But that still doesn’t sound like Dr. Deaton.”

Stiles sighs. “Just listen, okay?” he says, and starts playing the conversation that they’d had with Deaton earlier that day.

Scott does listen, with his frown slowly deepening. “Well,” he says, as soon as the conversation is over, and Stiles just sighs. “He does kind of have a point. I mean, about leaving us open so he’ll know where the spirits will go.”

Magnus looks at the ceiling and takes a slow, deep breath before looking back to Scott.

“Yeah,” Stiles says. “That would be a great point if it was why he’d actually _done_ it.”

“Come on, Stiles,” Scott says. “Deaton never meant for any of us to get hurt.”

“Let me change the details of the narrative for you, duckling,” Magnus says. “When I suggested that Alan could ‘ask for assistance’, what I meant, and believe me he understood, was ‘call the people who are literally born, bred, and raised to hunt demons’. There’s quite a large number of them in LA as we speak.” He gives that a moment to sink in while Stiles shifts uncomfortably. “He might not have exactly wanted you to get hurt, but he certainly didn’t _not_ want it, either. Watching the fallout or having access to a minor demon or two would amuse him greatly. I realize we all have our hobbies, but I do have a soft spot for the young.”

“Dr. Deaton wouldn’t do that,” Scott says, his voice firm and certain. “Whatever he did, it was because he felt it was for the best.”

“Okay,” Stiles says. “Fine. If that’s what you believe. Do you want Magnus to make you less possess-able or not?”

“Stiles, don’t be like that,” Scott says. “I’m just saying that I _know_ him, Stiles. We don’t know this guy. So he’s dating some guy who happens to be Derek’s brother. That doesn’t mean _anything_.”

“How old is Alan?” Magnus decides to try something else, since he does like Stiles. “Roughly.”

Scott purses his lips and looks faintly irritated. “I don’t know, forty-something maybe.”

“He’s over four hundred, by his own admittance, on that recording. We’re immortal, duckling. Warlocks are immortal. It isn’t a secret.”

Scott looks at Stiles, then back at Magnus. “Okay. But I still don’t know you, so I want to talk to him before you go doing any magic on me.”

Magnus sighs and looks at Stiles. “You tried, cupcake. You did. Let’s go see your other friend.”

Stiles just sits there for a minute. Scott looks at him and says, “Wait, Allison? I don’t want him doing any magic on Allison, either, not until I’ve – ”

“You know what I did last night, Scott?” Stiles interrupts. “I fucking _slept_. For _hours_. It was glorious. And I was able to do that because I didn’t have a God damned tree trying to crawl into my brain from across the country. That God damned thing followed me all the way to fucking New York, and Magnus, who was you so astutely pointed out, barely knows me and has absolutely _no_ reason to get involved, is the one who cared enough to help me. So you know what, you can take your concern for Allison which is clearly greater than your concern for me, and shove it up your ass. She’s smart enough to make the decision for herself after we’ve explained it to her.”

Magnus calmly gets to his feet. “It was interesting to meet you, Scott, but we have to go.”

“Stiles, wait,” Scott says, grabbing Stiles by the wrist. “I’m just trying to make sure we’re all safe. I trust Deaton, you _know_ that.”

“You trust everyone!” Stiles shoots back. “Everyone except Derek, and now, by extension, anyone who’s related to him. You used to trust _me_. But you don’t anymore. I don’t know if that’s because of Allison or Derek or, or if it’s all just you. I don’t know. I thought I was your brother, I thought you would _listen_ to me. But you don’t anymore. So if you decide you want to listen to me again, just call me, and we, we can fix your brain and move on with our lives. Okay?”

Scott looks away. “No, it – it’s not okay, but – just let me think about what to do.”

“Sure. Fine, whatever.” Stiles turns and walks away.

Magnus gently ushers Stiles out, and as soon as they’re off the porch, he flutters his fingers through the air, shedding blue sparks. “He can’t see or hear us right now, if you need a few minutes.”

“Okay,” Stiles chokes out.

Magnus’ first instinct is to pull Stiles into a hug, but he knows that some people don’t appreciate the invasion of their personal space. So he moves slowly, and mostly just opens his arms and gestures Stiles in. Stiles presses his face against Magnus’ shoulder and does his best to stifle a sob, his hands clutching at the back of Magnus’ shirt. Magnus just hugs him back, after a moment rocking him side to side a little.

After a few minutes, Stiles pulls away and wipes at his eyes. “So, uh, now you probably get why Derek didn’t want to come.”

“Well . . .” Magnus gives an elegant shrug.

Stiles looks back at the house. “He didn’t used to be like this. You know? But now that I can look back on it, I think a lot of that was actually because of Deaton. He got him on this ‘true alpha’ thing and now Scott . . .” Stiles’ voice trails off. “He just doesn’t listen anymore.”

Magnus eyes him. “Explain it to me how Alan explained it to you?”

“Yeah, sure, but . . . not here, okay? We can’t just stand on his lawn.” Stiles heads back to the car and gets behind the wheel, and Magnus follows. “I didn’t hear it myself. It’s what Deaton told him. That one time in a thousand there’s a beta who can rise to the rank of alpha without having to kill, through, uh, virtue of sheer will, I think he said.”

“Ah yes, that does sound like how he would phrase it. Deliberately ambiguous to someone not used to looking for traps.”

Stiles glances over at Magnus. “So . . . what’s the trap? Because if it’s that power _never_ comes without a price, I told him that.”

“Much simpler than that. It’s just in how we think about words. ‘Without having to kill’ and ‘virtue’. Implying that someone who can attain the power without killing is virtuous. When really what one should focus on is the words ‘through sheer will’. It’s not ‘goodness’, it’s stubbornness and favorable circumstances.”

Stiles thinks about that for a minute while he drives. “So he convinced Scott to be stubborn, _and_ convinced him that he’s the pinnacle of moral decency, at the same time. Super. Is that, uh. Do you think he like . . . did magic on Scott? Or is it just . . . words?”

“How long has Alan lived here?” Magnus asks. “Do you know?”

“I don’t. He’s lived here as long as I can remember.”

“And how long has Scott been associating with him?”

“Four or five years, maybe? He started hanging out at the animal clinic after his dad left, partly because he loves animals and partly because there wasn’t always a parent at home anymore.”

Magnus gives a little nod. “Likely just words, then. Words and time. Time to make himself a trusted member of the community, and time to become a trusted adult figure in Scott’s life. It might not have been anything ominous in the beginning. But opportunities present themselves.”

“And there’s nothing I can do about it now,” Stiles says, his voice dull.

“At this particular moment, no. But don’t give up hope. Don’t cut off contact. Just give some distance for now. Keep your friendship to things that don’t rile tempers. It will be hard, yes, but if an opportunity to help presents itself, you’ll be able to do so.”

“Presuming he doesn’t get, you know, eaten by a demon.”

“A true alpha of maximum stubbornness is hardly the sort of thing anything else wants to possess.”

“Oh? Okay. That’s good.” Stiles huffs out a sigh. “Yeah, that’s good. And I can wait for an opportunity, I guess. He’s frustrating as hell, but he’s my brother, you know?”

“After a fashion. Most of the people I’ve grown to care about that much are well past the point of teenaged stupidity.”

“Too bad you got stuck with me, then,” Stiles says with a snort.

“I said ‘most’, cupcake, not all.” Magnus shrugs. “As Alan pointed out, I do like to take the young under my wing.”

Stiles nods a little, thinking things over, and rubs his eyes with the back of his arm. “Thanks, Magnus.”

“You’re most welcome.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long delay, everyone - I'll try not to let it happen again! <3

By the time Magnus and Stiles get to the Argent house, Stiles has calmed down. He’s not precisely upset anymore, although he _is_ feeling pretty tired. Allison opens the door just after they knock. “Hey,” she says.

Since she’s not surprised, Stiles says, “Scott called you?”

“Yeah. Come on in.”

Stiles does so, and Magnus follows you. “Magnus, this is Allison. Allison, Magnus. Great, now we’re all acquainted, so since you’ve already had the lowdown, should we just save ourselves the trouble and leave?”

“Give the lady a chance,” Magnus murmurs. “She did let us in.”

Allison sighs and folds her arms over her chest. “Look, Stiles, I know that we’re all kind of crazy right now. Do I know what Scott’s problem is? No. I agree that I don’t know this guy and I don’t have any reason to trust him, but I trust _you_. So I’d really just like to hear everything from the beginning, without the, the Scott filter.”

“That seems reasonable,” Magnus says. “You two let me know if you want any input from me.”

Allison steers Stiles into the living room, and he sits down and explains about demons, about the reason they were having the nightmares, and what had happened in New York. She listens attentively while he describes what Magnus had done and how it had helped. Then he plays her the recording of their conversation with Deaton.

“Jesus, why didn’t you play that for Scott?” Allison asks.

Stiles gives her a tired look.

“You _did_ play that for Scott?” Allison looks between the two of them. “And he _still_ tried to defend that bastard?”

“Some people can be very . . .” Magnus searches for a word that won’t upset Stiles. “They can have more stubborn hope than good sense.”

“Wow.” Allison sits back in her chair. “Just, wow. Okay. Let me handle Scott. Personally, I’d really like to stop hallucinating my dead, psychotic aunt, so I’m all for whatever voodoo is required.”

“Oh, there will be no voodoo. That can get so messy. Would you care to visit New York City? I’ll have you home in time for dinner. It will be much easier to do this in my workshop.”

Allison looks at Stiles. He nods, so she smiles and says, “That sounds awesome. Do we have time to wait for Scott?”

“Scott isn’t . . .”

Allison gives Stiles a look. “When I get off the phone with him, he _will_ agree to this trip.”

“Great,” Stiles says. “I’m glad he still listens to one of us.”

Magnus looks at Stiles. “Are you comfortable waiting?”

Stiles takes that to be a question about whether or not he’d have the rest of the day Scott free. “Yeah. I want to get it done. But maybe you could take them back to New York yourself? I have to make dinner for my dad.” To Allison, he says, “He had KFC in his fridge. _KFC_.”

Allison tries not to laugh. “I’m going to go talk sense into Scott. With my boot if necessary. Do you want anything? Coffee, tea?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Magnus says.

“Coffee?” Stiles says hopefully, and Allison laughs and agrees. Once she’s delivered the coffee and left the room, Stiles says, “Sorry to dump them on you like that. But Allison’s cool. She’ll keep Scott in line.”

“If she can’t, I will simply mute him.” Magnus gestures as if he’s pressing a button, and Stiles gives a watery chuckle. “Derek could come along, of course.”

“Oh, uh, no.” Stiles shakes his head. “Scott hates Derek for stupid reasons, but Allison doesn’t like him for, uh, pretty legitimate ones. Like. Stuff that wasn’t exactly his fault, but at the same time everything was kind of messed up and . . . her aunt killed his family, his uncle killed her aunt, Derek accidentally bit her mother, who then killed herself . . . it, uh, it’s kind of complicated but trust me, it’s better not to have them in the same room together.”

“Yes, that does seem like it would be for the best. But don’t worry, Stiles, I can handle them for a couple hours while you take a break. It seems obvious you need one.”

“Yeah, I guess so. Thanks.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

After his search for Peter proves fruitless – something that doesn’t surprise Derek, really – he heads back to the Stilinski house. It’s getting late, and Stiles had texted him about a half hour previous, saying that he was heading for the store and was going to get started on dinner. Derek is just walking up the path when he sees the sheriff’s cruiser pull into the driveway, so he stops politely and waits. Tom exits the car a minute later. “Hey, Derek. Stiles roped you into this vegetable nonsense too, huh?”

“Vegetables aren’t . . .” Derek stops himself because he’s not about to get drawn into this discussion. He can’t figure out who has this much of a vendetta against carrots. “Yes, sir.”

Tom gestures for Derek to follow him up the front walk and into the house. “Where’d Stiles get off to? Or should I not ask.”

“I left him and Magnus to talk to Scott, without me.”

“Probably all for the best. You two don’t get along, or so I’ve heard.”

“You’ve heard correctly.” Derek follows the sheriff up the porch and to the door. As soon as it opens, the scent of cooking food emerges with the small breeze caused by the door. “But it looks like he beat us both here.”

Tom nods and heads into the kitchen. “Hey, you,” he says, and is surprised when he only gets a sad, wan smile in return. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m just tired. Nothing a little grilled romaine can’t fix.”

“You can’t grill lettuce,” Tom states.

“Actually you totally can, but I didn’t, because that’s weird even for me. You get lemon herb asparagus and salmon. Full of omega 3s. And possibly also mercury. But it sort of depends on who you ask.”

“How is this supposed to convince me that eating KFC is bad?”

“If you _want_ me to try to do that – ”

“No,” his father interrupts hastily. “That’s okay.”

“Does it help if I say I don’t smell mercury?” Derek asks.

“No,” Stiles says. “I mean, the whole idea is that there are small amounts of mercury in fish that build up over time. There was actually a study done that . . . you know what, it doesn’t matter. Never mind.” Stiles sets down a stack of plates on the table.

Derek and Tom exchange a concerned glance. Derek picks up the plates and says, “Should I set the table?”

“Do you know how?” Stiles asks, regaining a little of his humor.

“I was raised by wolves, not in a barn,” Derek replies, giving him a look.

“Then yes. Set the table.” Stiles busies himself in the kitchen, and a few minutes later he has the food out. “So before you all ask me a million questions, yes, Magnus has successfully fixed up Scott and Allison, he says he’s going to contact some big league people about the Void spirit or whatever, so, problems solved, kudos to us.”

“Okay. That’s good,” the sheriff says, and considers Stiles while they serve themselves and start eating. He even dutifully eats some asparagus. “So why are you upset?”

Stiles glances at him, but doesn’t bother to argue. “Scott was kind of a jerk, that’s all. Can we talk about it later?”

“When later?” Tom asks, because he’s fully aware that Stiles considers ‘never’ to be later.

“Just give me some time to cool down,” Stiles says. “And eat your asparagus.”

Sheriff Stilinski considers that for a minute, then nods. “Okay. So, Derek. Tell me about your family.”

“I, uh.” Derek is taken off guard, but rallies. “I have a twin. Alec. Fraternal.”

“Uh huh,” Tom says.

“And a younger sister, two years younger, Izzy. She, uh, she’s really smart, she’s actually a forensic scientist. She’s also incredibly gorgeous and self-confident.” Derek is warming up to the topic. “I guess I also have a little brother who’s only nine. I haven’t spent a lot of time with him because he lives with their parents, and, uh . . .”

“Yeah, I’ve heard about the whole,” Tom waves a hand vaguely, “ordeal that is your parents.”

“That’s a good way to describe it,” Derek agrees with a nod. He continues to talk about his family, the one subject he feels comfortable talking about. He glances at Stiles occasionally, but the teenager is focused on his food. He seems to be relaxing a little, though, which Derek takes as a win. He wants to know how it went with Scott and Magnus, but he’s not about to ask in front of Sheriff Stilinski.

Once dinner is over and the dishes have been taken to the kitchen, Derek stands a little awkwardly and finally asks, “So, uh, any plans for the night?”

“I’m gonna stay here,” Stiles says. “Sleep in my own bed, now that, you know, I can sleep. Magnus is going to come pick me up tomorrow. But I’m sure you can head back tonight. It’s not like Magnus seems to mind making portals.”

“Yeah, I’ll give him a call.” Derek shifts a little. He still wants to know what happened with Scott, but decides he’ll ask Magnus, since Stiles obviously doesn’t want to talk about it. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

Tom is quiet while he watches his son say good night to Derek. It’s too late for more coffee, despite what Stiles might think, so he’s making them each a mug of tea. “So,” he says, once Derek is gone. “You want to talk about it?”

“Not really.” Stiles slumps into a chair, looking at the tea with a sigh. “You know, Magnus actually got me coffee from Indonesia earlier? Which doesn’t sound that exciting, but he’s actually from Indonesia originally, so I assume he knows where the best coffee is.”

“And he just,” Tom wiggles his fingers, “magics it here?”

“Yeah. He’s apparently one of the most powerful warlocks in the world. So he can do a lot more than that. I mean, he can literally create a wormhole from here to New York, so conjuring up some coffee is really the least of his talents.”

“And he was able to help with whatever was going on with you, so you can sleep now.” That’s clearly the most important part to Tom.

“Uh huh. Then today he brought me here so he could fix up Allison and Scott, too.”

“So everyone is taken care of?” Tom frowns. “Why didn’t Deaton do . . . whatever that was?”

Stiles shuffles a little. “Look, uh . . . I know you and Deaton have been friends for a few years. So I don’t really want to get into it. You probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you the truth.”

“I think I learned my lesson about not trusting you,” Stilinski says, his tone somewhat rueful. “I know you’ll say stupid things and maybe tell a lie or two to get out of trouble, but you don’t do that about big things. Important things. Is this what was bothering you earlier?” Stilinski pats the chair next to him. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Stiles sits down across from his father and, despite his reassuring words, hunches his shoulders defensively when he starts to talk. “So . . . Deaton is a warlock. His name is actually Alan Change, which from what I can tell is because they all name themselves and they’re all super melodramatic. And I guess a warlock is actually the child of a demon and a human. So they’re not evil, like, Magnus is definitely not evil or demonic in any way, but they are immortal in that they don’t age. Magnus is about four hundred and he says that Deaton is older than he is.” His gaze flicks up to his father’s face to assess his reaction thus far.

“Weird,” his father agrees. “But no weirder than werewolves or crazy murder witches or whatever the Nematode is.”

“Yeah, so, uh . . . when you get old, you get bored. And sometimes you just decide to play around with mortals, no big deal, I guess. So, basically, Deaton didn’t bother to do any of the stuff to fix us up after the surrogate sacrifice spell did because he figured it would be more interesting to just wait and see what happened.”

Tom rakes a hand through his hair. “I’m going to kick his ass clear out of the country.”

“Uh, probably not. Warlock and all. But . . . I guess that’s part of the problem. I don’t know what to do about him, because Scott still wants to trust him, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

Tom chews on that for a minute. “Well,” he finally says, “Alan doesn’t seem out to directly hurt anyone. So as long as the current problem is taken care of, I suggest you let it ride, at least for now. If someone else shows up to make trouble, you can worry about it then.”

“Yeah, that’s what Magnus said, too.” Stiles sighs and fiddles with his mug, tapping his fingers against the edge. “I just, you know, if anything happens, I’m all the way in New York.”

“I know. To be honest, I’m happier that way, but I can see why you’re nervous about it. But Scott’s not the only one involved. If something happens, I’m sure Allison or Lydia will call you. Have you thought about how long you’re going to stay in New York?”

“Not really.” Stiles squirms a little. “I mean, I’m supposed to be in school and stuff? And now that Magnus has fixed me, I don’t know that there’s really a reason for me to stay there, but he’s helping me learn how to use magic and, and Derek is there and we still haven’t gotten his memories back, and . . .”

Tom holds his hand up to put a stop to Stiles’ rambling. “Look, Stiles, at this point you’ve missed so much class that catching up would be pretty difficult. I don’t think it’d be a bad idea to just withdraw you for the semester and let you catch up over the summer. That will at least give us a little time to decide what to do.”

Stiles nods, relaxing a little, and takes a drink of his tea.

“Why don’t we say we’ll revisit the issue after you’ve finished looking for whatever warlock took Derek’s memories, okay?” Tom says. “Either you’ll find him, or you’ll get to the end of the list of likely possibilities and the search will get more complicated. So when you hit that point, we’ll talk about this again.”

“Okay.” Stiles leans over for another hug, and his father gladly obliges. “Thanks, Dad.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

“So how was your dinner with Stiles’ father?” Magnus has an amused glint in his eye as he settles back into his favorite chair. “I hope you weren’t traumatized.”

“It was . . . tense and awkward.”

Magnus can’t help but roll his eyes. “I can’t imagine why.”

“Actually, I can’t either,” Derek says dryly. “What the hell happened?”

“Oh, with Stiles’ friends? And here I assumed that it was awkward because you were having dinner with your boyfriend’s father for the first time. Was that not it?”

“No, that wasn’t it.” Derek doesn’t bother to argue, because Magnus is just being Magnus and will continue to do so regardless of what Derek says about it. “So what happened?”

Magnus sighs and grows a little more serious. “Well, as you might have expected, Scott did not take well to the assertion that Alan Change deliberately left him and his friends in harm’s way. And by ‘did not take well’, I mean ‘reiterated numerous times that he trusts ‘Dr. Deaton’, refused to let me help him, and then tried to forbid us from helping Allison’.”

Derek looks up at the ceiling as if praying for patience. “You know, I’m remembering the time I punched Deaton in the head and tied him to a chair because I thought he was the bad guy. And everybody told me I was wrong. That I should trust him. He’s a good guy.”

“Yes, well. Alan Change is very clever, and he knows that building up trust is an excellent way to manipulate people. What’s that phrase? He’ll tell the truth for a hundred years, waiting for the opportunity for the perfect lie.”

“I should have dropped him down a well. I do own one, you know.” Derek shakes his head and forces himself to focus. “Did you manage to sort Allison out?”

“Yes, and she somehow talked Scott into letting me fix him, as well. Apparently she can be quite . . . persuasive.”

“Yeah, well.” Derek doesn’t want to talk about Allison. “Did Scott change his mind about how trustworthy Change is after you sorted them out? He must have been able to feel it, even if it was only a fraction of what was happening to Stiles.”

Magnus shakes his head slightly. “Understand, Scott didn’t deny what Change had done. Only his reasons for doing it. The whole ‘leaving them open for possession would let Alan know where the demons were going to be’ routine.”

“Scott is a fucking idiot,” Derek says, with feeling.

“No,” Magnus says quietly. “Scott is a child. He’s a child who’s been heavily indoctrinated by a very clever, much older, man. He trusts Change because Change has, up until now, been worthy of that trust, whereas the rest of the world has not been. If it were me against Change, I would completely understand, but . . .”

“I’m pretty sure he’s known Stiles longer than he’s known Deaton, and I _know_ Stiles has helped him more. Do you know who figured out that Scott was a werewolf? Stiles. Who taught him how to control it without any prior experience with werewolves, or for that matter, the supernatural at all? Stiles. So between you and Change, I can see, but between him and Stiles?”

“Yes, that was the point I was about to make, puppy,” Magnus murmurs, but lets Derek have his righteous anger without trying to tell him how to feel. “And thus, you see why Stiles was so upset. Apparently this . . . problem . . . has been worsening over time.”

Derek subsides a little, shaking his head. “I never thought it would get this bad.”

“Well, unfortunately, there isn’t much we can do about it at the moment. A fact which Stiles did not particularly like.”

“No, I imagine not. Leaving Scott with that shady motherfucker wouldn’t sit well at all.”

“But any attempt we make to break him away from Change will only reinforce the idea that we are not to be trusted.” Magnus shakes his head. “It’s a troublesome catch-22. I’m just glad that Stiles asked me to come pick him up tomorrow. I was thinking he might try to stay in Beacon Hills.”

That gets Derek’s attention. “What.”

Magnus raises an eyebrow. “Did it not occur to you that he intends to head back at some point?”

“Well, I just . . . I didn’t think . . . no!” Derek gives up on dignity, since Magnus has no respect for it anyway.

“Not to put too fine a point on it, Derek, but Stiles is seventeen.” Magnus gets off the sofa and heads for the bar. “He’s still a high school student. Honestly, if I hadn’t offered to teach him how to use magic, he probably would have left already.”

Derek snarls. “Yet when I point out that he’s seventeen, everybody wants to make light of it.”

Magnus raises his hands in surrender. “A few of us might have made ill-advised comments, that’s true. I do apologize.”

Derek growls, but it’s mostly undirected, just general frustration. “In the end, my opinion doesn’t matter anyway.”

“About Stiles’ future location, or about your future relationship?” Magnus asks, taking out a bottle and pouring them both a drink.

“Definitely the first. Who knows about the second.”

Magnus hands him the drink and says, “Under normal circumstances, I might advise that you talk to him. But I think that would actually be counterproductive right now. Stiles has decided to stay, and any attempt to persuade him to do what he’s already decided to do anyway, will only get his back up. Let’s just make the idea of staying here appealing to him, without actually bringing it up.”

Derek sighs. “What do we have to offer that we haven’t already offered? Aside from a promise that Scott won’t run headlong off a cliff if he isn’t watched.”

“I’m not sure.” Magnus sips his drink, then snaps his fingers. “Here’s a thought. Remember when you told me _not_ to pit Stiles against a group of recalcitrant warlocks?”

“Oh, Jesus.”

Magnus gives him a wide smile. “It will do to keep him nice and distracted, and unlike solving cold cases or doing magic, he’ll feel like he’s doing it for _you_ , which will probably be very rewarding for him.”

“Yes, but what about the part where those people might want to get rid of him?”

“I wouldn’t let any harm come to him.” Magnus looks offended. “And I’d hardly let him go charging off alone.”

Derek blinks at him for a moment, then looks away. “That’s not . . .” He trails off, trying to find the right words. “Having someone more competent than us who also gives a fuck about us, is kind of new. You get that, right?”

“I suppose I hadn’t thought of it that way. But believe me, I’ll take care of him.” Magnus knocks back his drink, then reaches out to squeeze his shoulder. “You too. Perhaps even Scott! If he apologizes properly.”

“I wouldn’t hold my breath on that last one.”

“Fair enough.” Magnus yawns and stretches. “Well, it’s late. I’m going to go work off some of my frustration. I’d suggest you do the same, but maybe you should just have some cocoa instead.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, it's Luke! Hi, Luke! Luke needs more love. ^_^

 

During dinner the next night, Derek eventually says, “Can someone gives me Luke’s number? I don’t want to be that guy who just shows up for the first time at the full moon, not knowing anybody else. Also, I wouldn’t know where to show up to.”

“His number should still be in your phone if you scroll back through your calls,” Stiles says, his mouth full.

“They probably party down at that skeazy restaurant,” Cora adds, rolling her eyes.

Derek gives a dramatic shudder at Cora’s words. “I hope not.”

“What _do_ werewolves do at the full moon?” Izzy asks curiously. “I mean, I kind of have visions of you of you guys running around the mountains, howling at the moon.”

“Cora’s right, it’s kind of a party,” Derek says. “It partly depends on what sort of space you have available and what sort of pack you have. You don’t have to shift, but you do have to burn off the energy. In Beacon Hills.” His voice sticks for a minute, but steadies. “Before, we would shift and run through the preserve. Hunt, even. When Laura and I lived in the city, we just played tag on foot. Once or twice a year we’d go upstate and shift so we could run around where people wouldn’t call the dog catchers on us.”

“So why can’t you just do that now?” Alec asks. “I mean, not that I have a problem with Luke, Luke is a great guy, but the rest of his pack is kind of . . .”

“Sketchy,” Izzy supplies.

“They don’t seem to bathe much,” Derek says.

“That’s the least of their problems,” Magnus says, rolling his eyes.

“Anyway, no, Cora and I can’t just run around on our own.” Derek takes a drink of his tea and tries to focus. “It’s the alpha who helps you keep control during the full moon. When something goes wrong, it’s your instinct to look to your alpha, and it’s their job to keep things under control.”

“You _can_ keep yourself in check without an alpha,” Cora adds, “but it’s hard. You have to stay really tense and you can get kind of paranoid, double checking your own behavior until you can spend the entire time frozen up.”

“I won’t pretend I know a lot about werewolves,” Stiles says, and then blurts out, “except for the part where I totally will, because I’ve read nine hundred pages about it, and really werewolves _need_ pack, in a physiological sort of way. Like, contact with pack members helps release oxytocin and reduce stress and so werewolves can totally survive without a pack, but they’re healthier with one, which sounds kind of funny since werewolves don’t get sick.”

“It doesn’t have to be werewolves, though,” Derek says. “Just people we’re close to. Who don’t smell like three week old Chinese food.”

“Then why do you want to see Luke at all?” Alec asks.

“Stiles is talking about day to day stuff,” Derek says. “And he’s not wrong. But the full moon is different.”

“Well, it’s no problem to set up a meeting,” Magnus says. “As Alec said, Luke is quite a decent person. I’m sure he’ll take good care of you.”

Cora wrinkles her nose. “I can’t even imagine how he wound up with a pack like that.”

Derek glances over. “I can,” he says, and when she gives him a questioning look, he says, “He didn’t choose them. He killed their alpha and took over.” He looks at Alec and Magnus. “Right?”

Alec nods. “Yeah. It was a couple years ago now. The alpha of that pack was _not_ a nice guy. But after Luke got bitten, he didn’t really have a choice about what pack to join if he wanted to stay here in New York City. Anyway, a lot of stuff happened, that alpha kidnapped a girl who was really close to Luke, basically his daughter, and tried to kill her – long story short, Luke’s the alpha now.”

“But he can’t just kick out the local pack members, who wouldn’t have anywhere else to go,” Magnus says, “and believe it or not, he’s wrought quite a change on them. He keeps them in line. But I don’t think he’s overly picky on exactly how human they act.”

“Besides, who are you to talk?” Stiles asks, reaching for the container of corn bread. “Little Miss Lived in the Jungle.”

Cora glowers at him, but then makes a face and says, “Okay. Point. But at least I don’t still act like I’m living in the jungle, now that I’m not.”

Stiles looks pointedly at the ribs she’s been eating with her hands, making an enormous mess.

“They’re ribs! They’re supposed to be eaten like that!”

“Yeah, she’s really got you there,” Izzy says, laughing. “None of us look any better. Except Magnus, who’s _got_ to be cheating in order to preserve his makeup.”

“Excuse me, use of a natural talent is not cheating,” Magnus says in a lofty tone.

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

Stiles’ feet kick back and forth as he studies the wall full of warlocks that he’s put up in a spare room that had mysteriously appeared for this purpose. He knows he’s being given busy work, that Magnus and Derek have conspired to keep him from thinking too much about what’s happened in Beacon Hills. To tell the truth, he doesn’t mind. He’d rather keep busy. And if chasing down warlocks that are a slim possibility is something he can do, that’s okay by him.

The initial list Magnus had come up with had consisted of thirteen warlocks. Of those, they’ve managed to definitively rule out eight, and the remaining five are playing least-in-sight. Magnus had ‘decided to expand the search pool’, which Stiles took to mean ‘throw everything at the wall and see what sticks’.

So now he has twenty-seven more warlocks to investigate. Part of that is his own fault. Magnus had initially given him another eleven, and then he had asked, “So I know that we figured the warlock in question had to be really powerful, but isn’t it possible that they’re just really good at memory spells?”

Magnus looked thoughtful for a minute before agreeing that it was possible, and then had come back with sixteen more possibilities.

“I didn’t realize there were this many warlocks in New York City,” Stiles said, looking at the list.

“Oh, there aren’t. But I’ve included some that are known to do contracting work, so to speak, and travel all over the world.”

That makes sense. But given that all the warlocks can open portals, it doesn’t give Stiles a lot to go on. There’s no travel records he can look up. It was too long ago for there to be any sort of financial data he can dig into.

When he mentioned that to Magnus, he agreed. “No, all we can do is locate them in the present, and then ask them if they did it.”

“There has to be a better way than that,” Stiles said, chewing on his thumbnail. “That’s gonna take forever.”

“I’m open to suggestion, cupcake.”

That’s how Stiles wound up sitting on the edge of his desk, staring at the wall of warlocks, waiting for a clue to leap out of it and smack him upside the head. He hasn’t worked a case like this before. There’s usually physical evidence, something that the perpetrator needed to commit the theoretical crime. But there’s nothing in this case. All the warlock would have needed was their own magical skill.

The one thing that seems unusual to Stiles is that the warlock was willing to do work for a Shadowhunter. The two groups don’t seem fond of each other. How had Maryse gotten in touch with a warlock to begin with? How would she have known one?

In Stiles’ mind, that’s the place to start his investigation. Only he can’t, because he can’t get to Maryse, and she wouldn’t be willing to talk to him even if he could.

He doesn’t have Maryse, but he _does_ have a bunch of case files from the Institute. Some of those cases involve warlocks. Not a lot. Maybe about ten percent of them. But if he can find a case from the right time period where a warlock had been involved, maybe Maryse kept track of him afterwards. Maybe she felt the warlock owed her a favor.

This decided, he hops off the desk and goes hunting for Magnus, but the loft is empty. Stiles remembers that he was taking Derek and Cora over to meet up with Luke again, and scowls. He can’t just take a taxi because he doesn’t actually know where the Institute technically is. He’ll just have to wait.

He’s on the verge of being completely consumed by boredom when his phone buzzes and he glances down to see he has a text from Scott. He stares at it without reading it for a minute. He hadn’t seen Scott since he and Magnus had left the McCall house. He had been gone before Allison had gotten him to come over, and Magnus had brought both of them home before seeing Stiles the next day.

After a minute, he taps on the text and reads it. ‘You okay? You weren’t in school today.’

Chewing on his lower lip, he texts back, ‘I’m back in NY. Dad’s withdrawing me from school for the semester.’

It’s a small eternity before Scott replies. ‘Want to skype?’

‘Sure,’ Stiles replies, against his better judgment. He remembers what Magnus had said after they left Beacon Hills. Keep their friendship to things that didn’t rile tempers. He takes out his laptop and turns it so Scott won’t be able to see the wall of warlocks. If Scott is going to be a jerk about Stiles helping Derek, he doesn’t want to hear about it.

“What’s up?” he asks, when Scott’s face comes on screen.

“I, uh. Thought I’d see you today?” Scott rubs a hand over the back of his head, looking chagrined. “I was gonna tell you about this really cute girl who I had dinner with a few nights ago.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s her name?”

“It’s Kira.” Scott pulls a picture up on his phone to show to Stiles. “According to Lydia and Allison, she likes me. I guess they’d know better than I would.”

“She looks nice,” Stiles says, trying to muster up some enthusiasm.

Scott waxes poetic about Kira for several minutes, then says, “So like . . . what are you up to in New York?”

Stiles perks up a little. “A lot. Working cold cases. Learning magic. Hey, wanna see something cool?”

“Sure,” Scott says.

Stiles picks up the laptop and carries it into the kitchen, putting it on the counter so it’s turned towards the sink. He still has the best luck with his magic when he’s standing on the ley lines, but he’s been getting better about reaching for the power from further away. Not surprisingly, Magnus’ loft is quite close to one of the ley lines, so he’s still able to draw from it. “Okay, watch this,” he says, and turns the faucet on. He holds his hands underneath it and creates the bubble in them, so the water pools over his hands and then streams down the sides of the invisible dome.

“Wow, that’s awesome,” Scott says. “I didn’t know you could do anything like that.”

Stiles turns off the water. “Yeah. Magnus has been teaching me. He says I probably have some fae blood in my ancestry somewhere. That’s how I can use mountain ash, too.”

Scott shifts a little, looking uncomfortable, as Stiles picks the laptop up and carries it back into his new workshop. “So . . . how long are you going to stay in New York?”

“I dunno,” Stiles says. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“It’s weird, you not being around.”

Stiles doesn’t say anything to that for a long minute, struggling against a well of resentment that he’s not sure Scott deserves. Of course he’s always been there for Scott. Of course it’s weird for Scott that he’s gone. He just wishes Scott had expressed some of those sentiments before he had left. “Well, if you need anything or if trouble starts, you can just call me. Magnus can make wormholes, so, I can come back any time.”

“That’s not really what I meant, though,” Scott says. “Are you just . . . are you going to stay there forever?”

“Maybe. I don’t know, okay?” Stiles looks away. “I like it here. Magnus is teaching me magic, like, actually. Derek’s brother Alec works with this supernatural law enforcement type of place and they’ve let me work on some of their cold cases, _real_ cold cases where I’ve actually been able to help them catch some bad guys.”

“But Beacon Hills is, is home,” Scott says.

“Well, yeah, I know,” Stiles says, “but dude, I’m seventeen. What did you think was going to happen at the end of next year? I’m not going to Beacon Hills Community College. I never planned to do that. And when you know someone who can make wormholes, college in San Francisco and college in New York are basically the same thing.”

“I guess it just seems weird to me that you would just walk away.”

Stiles takes a deep breath. “Dude. Look. I don’t owe Beacon Hills anything, okay? And neither do you. It’s just a place I live. Lived. Whatever.”

“But there are people here who need help,” Scott says earnestly.

“There are people _everywhere_ who need help,” Stiles says. “Like I said. Cold cases. Catching bad guys.”

Scott looks away. “But the Nemeton . . . it’s our fault that it’s going to attract trouble yet.”

Stiles has to take another minute. “Look, regardless of what Dr. Deaton did or didn’t do, that’s not our fault. It’s Jennifer Blake’s fault. We wouldn’t have had to do that if she hadn’t tried to sacrifice our parents. I’m not going to take responsibility for that thing the rest of my life. Besides, Magnus said . . .” He cuts himself off.

“Magnus said what?” Scott prompts.

“He’s talking to some people about taking care of it. There are these people, the, uh, the Silent Brothers? I guess they can clean up places like that, negate the psychic energy, or something. It’s the same branch of people who hunt demons for a living.” He doesn’t mention Derek’s family being involved, because he’s not sure how Scott will react to that. “He wanted to make sure it didn’t cause any trouble in the long run.”

“Well, that’s good, I guess,” Scott says.

“Yeah,” Stiles says.

“You didn’t even ask me before you left,” Scott blurts out.

Stiles blinks at him. “Huh?”

“You just took off. I guess maybe I was a little bit pissed at you. We were all struggling, but at least the three of us had each other, and then you just took off on some road trip with the Hales and I just . . .”

Stiles can’t meet his gaze. “Honestly? It just didn’t occur to me that you’d miss me that much.”

“Well, I do,” Scott says. “You’re my brother, remember?”

“Yeah.” Stiles rubs a hand over the back of his head. “Look, even if I stay here long-term, I’ll still come back and visit, we can still skype, and if anyone breathes funny in your direction, I’ll be on the next wormhole back so I can kick their ass. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Scott says.

There’s a noise out in the rest of the loft, and Stiles looks up. “Oh, hey, the others are back, I’ve gotta go. I have work to do. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

“So that’s pretty much it for the dime tour,” Luke says, gesturing to a large table with some chairs and then taking a seat. “The warehouse is usually where we hang out during the full moon. Plenty of room to run around, but no one who can see us.”

Derek is nodding. He’s a little skeptical, but is holding his tongue. Cora grew bored with the tour quickly and had wandered off to make friends, in her own surly sort of way. “So how many pack members are there?”

“Around two dozen,” Luke says. “It’s a big pack, I know. I took in some strays after I became the alpha.”

“Magnus told us a bit about that,” Derek says. “Pretty sure you took in all strays.”

“You could put it that way,” Luke says, and shrugs. “It wasn’t really the pack for me, but I had to stay in Brooklyn. There were people here that I was protecting. So my hands were pretty much tied. But I don’t regret it. I’ve actually come to enjoy being the alpha.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t . . .” Derek looks away. “I wasn’t very good at that.”

Luke frowns a little. “You’re not an alpha, though. What happened?”

“It didn’t work out,” Derek says with a shrug, and quickly changes the subject. “Well, I hope you don’t mind adding a couple more strays. Looks like we’re probably going to be around for a while.”

Luke smiles, a kind of genuine, warm smile. “No problem. You and your sister grew up as werewolves. I bet there’s a lot you can teach the others. Hell, there’s probably a lot you can teach me. I didn’t get turned until I was in my twenties, and it took me a hell of a long time to figure some of this stuff out.”

“I had no idea I’d even been turned,” Derek says, shaking his head. “I mean, I just assumed that I had been born that way, like the rest of the Hales.”

“Yeah. What Maryse did to you, man.” Luke shakes his head a little. “She’s quite a trip, I’ll say that.”

“I still haven’t had the pleasure of meeting her,” Derek says. “Which is really a shame. I have so much I’d like to say to her.”

Luke shakes his head a little. “You might not understand the extent of indoctrination that goes on. Not just _by_ Maryse, but probably _to_ her, in her day. I’m still amazed that your brother fell for a warlock, and even then, for a good year or so after that, he had a lot of internal prejudice to overcome. You know, the sort where he subconsciously thought of Magnus as different, better somehow, than the rest of his kind, and therefore deserving of his love. Magnus beat that out of him eventually – metaphorically, of course – but internal prejudice can be a lot more powerful than most people understand. I nearly killed myself after I got bitten. I’m actually a little surprised that Maryse didn’t just kill you.”

Derek looks away, thinking of Allison. “Yeah, I . . .” He clears his throat. “There was a hunter that I bit by accident, while I was an alpha, and she killed herself. I know that I’m not responsible for what she did, but . . .”

“But it still hurts,” Luke says, nodding in agreement. “I didn’t want to be a werewolf, and I fought against it, hard. If it hadn’t been for Jocelyn, no way would I have survived.” He goes over to a small refrigerator sitting nearby and pulls out a beer for each of them. “I’m not going to condone what Maryse did, but I don’t think I can quite go as far as condemning it, either. Telling Alec and Izzy that you had died was unacceptable, but the part where she sent you away, to live among other werewolves, was probably the best thing for you.”

“Well, it’s mostly the first part that I have a problem with,” Derek says. “That and taking my memories away. I feel like if she had, had let me remember the mistakes I made, maybe I wouldn’t have made different mistakes later.”

Luke watches him over the rim of his mug. “You want to talk about it?”

Derek’s surprised to find that he does. Maybe it’s because Luke’s an alpha, maybe it’s because if it weren’t for Luke, he wouldn’t have found his family. Maybe it’s because Luke’s just a genuinely nice guy who clearly wants to help. “When I was fifteen, I broke some of my family’s rules, you know, Rules with a capital R. Because I was a stupid kid. Someone . . . took advantage of me, and my family got killed.” He studies his hands. “She might have found a way to do it anyway, and I know that it’s more her fault than mine. Now, at least, I know that. But I look at Alec, at his . . . almost obsession . . . for following the rules. And I wonder if it would have been different. If I had remembered being ten and breaking the rules and getting hurt, would I have broken the rules when I was fifteen? Or would I have known better?”

“She took a really important learning experience away from you,” Luke says, nodding. “Given how Alec behaved, you might be right. Although it’s also true that softening the experience – Alec thought you had been killed, remember – might not have made the same impression on either of you.” He shrugs. “I guess it’s impossible to say. And like I said, I certainly don’t condone what Maryse did. But I guess from my perspective, which is honestly surprised that she didn’t just murder you and tell everyone the werewolf had done it, I have a little bit of sympathy.”

“Maryse is just as indoctrinated as the rest of them.” Derek sighs. “I don’t think I’m ready to feel any sympathy for her yet.”

“That’s fine. You’re under no obligation to forgive her for what she did to you. That’s a very personal thing, and I’m not one of those people who thinks that forgiveness is necessary to healing. I’ve never forgiven Valentine for what he did to me, and I plan to live a long, happy life never forgiving him. I think it’s more like . . .” Luke looks pensive for a moment. “You’ve obviously had a hard road. I can’t imagine what it’s been like for you, since your family was killed. But it brought you to a good place. Now, does that make the bad things that happened to you okay? No. But I think it’s important to look at the good things in your life as of right now, and cherish them for what they are. I think that’s the key to being happy. You don’t have to forgive or forget the bad things, and you don’t have to tell yourself it’s okay that they happened to you . . . but the past is the past. If you’re happy where you are, then be happy.”

“There are just a lot of people who won’t ever get that opportunity. People who died. Not just my family, but . . .” Derek thinks back to Erica and Boyd, feels his throat tighten. “People who never would have even been in danger if it hadn’t been for me.” He shakes his head and looks away. “I don’t think I’m ready to talk about that yet.”

“That’s okay.” Luke reaches over and squeezes his shoulder. “Let’s go see what your sisters have gotten up to.”

At this, Derek manages a smile. “Izzy needs some werewolf 101. Cora left a sweatshirt in her room and Izzy keeps trying to give it back, and when I explained to her that it’s a sign of affection, she looked at me like I was speaking on tongues. But of course Cora won’t just _admit_ how happy she is to have a sister and how much she just wants Izzy to wear the damned sweatshirt and carry her scent.”

Luke laughs. “That’s how werewolves show affection, huh? That’s new even to me. And I suddenly understand why I never want to let Jocelyn wear her own jacket, but always try to give her mine, even if it means I’ll be freezing. It’s a scent thing, huh?”

“Yeah. Sharing scent is very important for pack, for family.”

“I learn something new every day.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~


	12. Chapter 12

“Look who’s in a sunny mood today,” Izzy says, laughing a little as Derek scowls at her. “Come on, big brother. Tell us all about it.”

“I haven’t even had my coffee yet,” Derek growls. “Stiles drank the whole pot before he left for the day.”

“Let’s go out and get some, then,” Alec says. He waves a hand vaguely at the stacks of paper from his current case and adds, “Nothing’s going to happen with this for a while.”

Derek allows them to tow him out of the Institute and to the nearby coffee shop. The barista greets them with her usual cheer and gets their drinks. They settle into a booth in the corner. Alec looks over the rim of his cup and says, “Seriously. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s _wrong_ ,” Derek says. “Not exactly. It’s just that some weird bullshit is going on back in Beacon Hills. It’s probably nothing. There was some serial killer who needed surgery and then he abducted some girl. It might not have even been a supernatural thing. I got most of the details from Stiles and he wasn’t making a lot of sense. Anyway, the gist of it is that it’s not a big deal, it totally got handled, but he had to drop everything and go check on them.”

Alec rubs a hand over the back of his head and says, “And I take it you think this is a bad thing.”

“He doesn’t need to – ” Derek stops and takes a deep breath, forces himself to be rational and convince his brother and sister that he isn’t actually insane. “They’re not his responsibility. I don’t want him going back there all the time because he feels like they can’t handle things without him.”

Alec and Izzy exchange a glance. Izzy is apparently nominated spokesperson, because she says, “Derek, we know you mean well, but you know that’s not exactly up to you, right? Stiles gets to make his own choices. _He_ has to decide whether he’s going to stay here or go back to Beacon Hills.”

“I know that, but – ” Derek glowers as Izzy nudges a chocolate pastry towards him. “Cut that out. You’re treating me like I’m being irrational and I’m not. He _wants_ to stay here. But because Scott can’t get his shit together, Stiles is always going to feel like he has to rescue him.”

Alec fiddles with his mug. “Do you know what hypervigilance is?”

“I’m going to assume it’s exactly what it sounds like.”

“Yeah, basically. It’s a symptom of psychological trauma. You see it in PTSD.” Alec sighs. “Look, Stiles went through a lot. So did you, obviously, but I think you were in a different place to start with. Stiles’ entire world got turned upside down when Scott got bitten, and then he spent the next year in constant danger. It stands to reason that he’d be kind of fucked up by that. And now he’s always waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“Look, I get that,” Derek says, “but I don’t get why he thinks he’s some miracle worker who can save everyone, and that things will turn to shit the minute he’s not there.”

“It’s kind of . . .” Izzy looks at Alec as if he might supply the right word. “I don’t want to say ‘arrogance’ because that’s not exactly right, but it comes from the same place. Stiles is pretty smart, obviously. Whether it’s true or not, I think he does honestly feel like he’s better at figuring out and handling supernatural shit than his friends back home.”

“That might actually even be true,” Alec says. “I mean, if you think about the way he’s been working through our cold case backlog. He does obviously have a talent for this.”

Derek sighs and looks away. “I guess. Maybe. I mean, he _has_ saved our asses a couple times. If he hadn’t turned up with Molotov cocktails, Peter probably would have killed a bunch of people. He turned up in time to run the kanima over, too. But it’s not like he’s the only one who’s saved people. I’d like to think I helped out a few times. Scott’s certainly done his fair share. So why is Stiles so convinced that it has to be him?”

“That’s not what he’s convinced of, though,” Izzy says. “He just knows that the _one time_ he doesn’t show, and people get hurt, he’ll never forgive himself.”

Derek grimaces. “I just . . . every time he goes back to Beacon Hills, now I’m afraid he won’t come back here.”

 “You could try something revolutionary like talking to him about it,” Alec says. “I mean, telling him that you want him to stay.”

“I can’t do that,” Derek says, and scowls when Izzy and Alec give him an identical patient look. “Look, you guys don’t know Stiles, the way you, you give him an inch and he takes a mile. If I say I want him to stay here, he’ll probably think I’m proposing.”

“Okay, look, Derek,” Alec says, “I learned a _lot_ about how stupid it is to never talk about how you feel when I started dating Magnus. I mean, I had no idea what I was doing. I couldn’t accept how I felt about him. I was fucked up six ways from Sunday, you know? Even after we started dating, I was still uncomfortable with it. I didn’t want to hold his hand in public, didn’t want him coming to the Institute if I wasn’t there because I didn’t know what he might say. That sort of thing. It took me a while to get over it. So trust me when I say I am _very_ familiar with how important communication is. And the first time we talked about this whole thing with Stiles and I asked why you hadn’t just talked to him, you said you hadn’t had a chance. That was over a month ago.”

Derek flushes pink and won’t look at either of them. “It’s not exactly easy.”

“I _know_ that. Like I just said. But trust me, you _will_ feel better once all the cards are on the table. Just tell him, you like him, but you don’t feel comfortable dating him until he’s eighteen. From what I’ve seen of him, he’s not going to argue. He knows how fucked up you are.”

“Knowing Stiles, he’ll put it on your calendar and set a daily reminder on your phone,” Izzy says, laughing. “One hundred seventeen days until our first date! And so on, and so forth.”

“Can we talk about something else?” Derek asks.

Alec rolls his eyes, but says, “Sure. Okay. If you’re so concerned about Stiles running off to Beacon Hills every time there’s a problem, then we have to stabilize the area, right? Which we’ve already started doing. I mean, the LA Shadowhunters went to clean the place up.”

“Said they’d never seen so many demons living in suburbia before,” Izzy agrees. Since Derek isn’t eating the pastry, she picks it up and starts eating it herself. “But that should cut down a lot on the death and destruction.”

“And the Silent Brothers are going to work on the Nemeton,” Alec says. “They’ll clean it up and turn it into one of the entrances to the City of Bones, so nobody else will be able to access it. Once that’s happened, the taint in the ley lines should clear up, and the area should settle down a lot.”

“But none of that matters,” Derek says, shoving a hand through his hair, “because there’s still Alan Change. I don’t put it past him to actively invite trouble if he gets bored. And he’s going to be pissed about the Nemeton. He might try to keep using it.”

“Yeah, that isn’t gonna happen,” Izzy says, shaking her head. “Look, you haven’t met any of the Silent Brothers, but . . . remember how Magnus said only an idiot would summon a greater demon? You’d need an even _bigger_ idiot before they would mess with the Silent Brothers. They’re really powerful and scary as hell.”

“Okay, but even so. That doesn’t mean he won’t make trouble.”

Alec chews on his lower lip, thinking that over. “You and Scott don’t get along, right?”

“That’s . . . one way to put it, yeah.”

“So it wouldn’t really hurt your feelings if he decided he hated you and was never going to speak to you again?”

Derek looks at Alec over the rim of his mug. “Where are you going with this?”

Alec shrugs. “Whoever exposes Change for what he is won’t be Scott’s favorite person afterwards. Even if he knows they were right, and that they were doing it to protect him. Change is like a father to him. Losing him will hurt. That’s why Stiles won’t push the issue – because he doesn’t want Scott to hate him afterwards. Fortunately for Stiles, I don’t give a rat’s ass what this kid thinks of me. So if you don’t either, then it’s our job to convince Scott of what Change is. Once we’ve done that, Change won’t have the in. He’ll probably lose interest and wander off.”

Derek nods slowly. “Okay,” he says, “but that’s a lot easier said than done.”

“I didn’t say it would be easy, but I think we can figure it out. We need to manipulate some situation where Change could be of help, then prove to Scott that he didn’t.”

“So we need a villain,” Izzy says thoughtfully. “Someone who’s known to do bad things, someone who Scott dislikes and doesn’t trust, but at the same time, someone who would be willing to help us.”

Derek blinks. “You know,” he says, “I have an uncle who fits that description almost exactly. If we make it worth his while.”

Alec grins. “Okay,” he says, “let’s go find him.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

Stiles has to entirely redo his filing system to find cases with warlocks involved. He focuses on the five years before the incident with the werewolf, figuring that even Maryse would only keep tabs on a warlock for so long. There are fewer than he would have figured. Most warlocks steer clear of Shadowhunters when at all possible. The ones who are actually willing to work with – or at least work for – Shadowhunters, Magnus has already ruled out.

So he’s left with an eclectic handful of cases involving about half a dozen warlocks. None of them seem any more likely than the last. Three of them were already on the list that he had planned on investigating.

Stiles considers the pile of folders and says, “If I were Maryse, who would I hire?”

He tries to think about it logically. Maryse had cared about secrecy over everything else. She hadn’t wanted anyone to know what had happened to Derek. That meant discretion would be one of the top virtues she would look for. She would value that even over skill.

“I still don’t get why she didn’t just kill him,” Stiles says to himself, completely forgetting that Cora is in the room. Derek is out with Alec and Izzy, so she’s hanging out at the Institute.

She looks up and glowers at him. “That’s my brother you’re talking about.”

Stiles startles, then spins on his chair and says, “Okay, yeah, but. You see my point.”

“Yeah.” Cora’s still glaring, but it’s a more thoughtful glare. “I kind of assumed that his dad – what’s his name, Robert? – was only willing to let her go so far.”

“I got the impression that she doesn’t give a flying blue fuck what Robert thinks,” Stiles says, “but you could be right. I _probably_ shouldn’t assume that someone is capable of infanticide without evidence.”

Cora snorts and goes back to her book.

“It doesn’t change my point, though. Maryse would have valued discretion over skill. Which means she would have looked for a warlock who _wasn’t_ powerful. One who didn’t have a lot of friends, who voluntarily isolated themselves. Which means that these guys are probably more likely that the ones Magnus was looking into.”

At this, Cora nods thoughtfully. “It sort of puts the whole ‘she wouldn’t have gone far’ thing into question, too. I mean, I can see why we might think she wouldn’t have wanted to transport her bouncing baby werewolf all the way to Antarctica. But would she really have picked someone in New York? Someone who could have told all her buddies what she did?”

“See, I still think it was someone in New York,” Stiles says, “because they just run the Institute here. All the politicians, all the friends they schmooze with, they’re back in Idris. Wherever _that_ is. From some of the stuff Izzy and Alec have said, I think it’s in Europe somewhere, but I’m not sure.”

“Okay, so, New York it is.” Cora abandons her book entirely and leans over his shoulder. “What’ve you got.”

“Six likely suspects.” Stiles spreads the cases out on the table. “All of them were involved in cases Maryse worked on in the years before Derek got bitten, so she knew them, probably knew where to find them. But none of them worked directly for her, so, less risk that they might work for other Shadowhunters and blab.”

“Maryse would want someone she thought was a pushover,” Cora says thoughtfully. “Someone who wouldn’t dare tell her to go to hell. So we want to look at the cases where the warlock was the victim.”

“Good thought, yeah. Though, that’s most of them. When the warlock was a perp, they didn’t live to tell the tale. But these two were just sources of information, not actually victims, so we can put them as less likely. What about . . .” Stiles rifles through the folders for a minute and then stops. “Huh.”

“Huh what?” Cora asks, leaning over again.

“This guy. This picture.” Stiles takes the picture out and puts it on top of a closed folder. It’s a man who’s more gangly than thin, with very pale skin and distinctly feline eyes. He’s walking down an alley, and there are three cats following him. In the next photograph, he’s at a door, and the knocker is shaped like a cat’s head.

“Dude likes cats,” Cora says.

“Yeah. And Derek’s clearest memory of his childhood is of his cat. That strikes me as an odd coincidence.”

Cora nods, frowning. “I had kind of wondered that, too. Why he would remember his cat, but not, you know, his brother. But the other thing he remembered was a cemetery, so I kind of chalked that up to memory spells being weird.”

“And it still could be, but I think it’s worth looking into. Let’s see who this guy is.” Stiles flips the folder back open and then says, “Huh,” again.

“What now?”

“There’s no name in the file.”

“That sounds weird.”

“It is weird. All the other warlocks, there are names and details in the files, even if they were victims or informants or whatever. This one there isn’t. And since Maryse was the one in control of the Institute back then, that seems an awful lot like she didn’t want anybody being able to look this guy up later.” He takes out his phone and snaps a picture, then taps at his phone. “Hey, Magnus? I’m sending you a picture. Do you know this guy?”

“Just a second,” Magnus says. Then he says, “Edwin Scratch. An interesting choice, Stiles.”

“Seriously, you guys need to stop naming yourselves,” Cora says, rolling her eyes.

Magnus sounds amused. “I’ll take it under advisement.”

“You hadn’t included Edwin on any of the lists so far,” Stiles says.

“No, I hadn’t. He’s not exactly a lightweight, but he’s notoriously reclusive and hates people, particularly Shadowhunters. I simply didn’t figure Maryse would have ever found him, let alone been able to convince him to do magic for her. What made you bring him up?”

“Well, Maryse found him at least once, because she suspected him of some weird plague that happened the year before Derek was bitten.” Stiles flipped through the file. “It turned out not to be him, but there’s still some information in here. Not much, though. The identifying data has been removed, which seems pretty suspicious to me. Anyway, I saw that he likes cats, and it got me thinking that maybe he left Derek the memory of Church on purpose.”

Magnus hmms for a minute before saying, “It’s possible. I’m still not sure why Edwin would have agreed, but it’s certainly an avenue worth pursuing. It could take some time, though. Notorious recluse, et cetera.”

“But you’ll look?” Stiles asks.

“Certainly. I’ll start right away.”

“Awesome,” Stiles says. He says goodbye and then hangs up, looking at the picture thoughtfully. “So if warlocks get to name themselves, and I’m learning magic, do I get to name myself, too?”

Cora snorts. “Haven’t you already?”

“Well, no.” Stiles fiddles with the photograph. “It’s my mom who started calling me Stiles. I mean, it didn’t take anyone long to figure out that Miecyslaw wasn’t going to fly in kindergarten.”

“Oh.” Cora shrugs. “I’m sure you’ll come up with something suitably melodramatic.”

Stiles can’t help but grin. “Hell yeah, I will.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

It takes Derek almost a week to find Peter, who’s still skulking around Beacon Hills but mysteriously finds other places to be whenever Derek comes around. He finally tracks him down with the help of Sheriff Stilinski, and is this close to getting Chris Argent involved, just to piss Peter off.

“So you must be Derek’s twin brother,” Peter says, as soon as he opens the door to see Derek with Alec behind him. “The resemblance is impressive.”

Derek rolls his eyes as Peter stands back to let them in. “Yeah, that wasn’t actually why I came here, but since you brought it up, I have to admit I am a little curious about how much you knew. Obviously you knew I was adopted.”

“All the adults knew, but Talia thought it was best not to tell you.” Peter shuts the door and locks it behind them. He walks back into his living room without offering them anything to drink, and settles on the sofa. “Since you didn’t have your memories, it was much simpler to let you believe you were just another of her biological children.”

“You could have said something afterwards,” Derek growls.

“When?” Peter arches an eyebrow at him. “I might invite you to recall that I wasn’t really chatting with anyone after the fire. Then, let’s see, you ripped out my throat, which didn’t leave me particularly talkative either.”

“You deserved it,” Derek says.

Peter shrugs. “I didn’t say I didn’t. In any case, since I knew your biological parents had had absolutely no interest in keeping you, and therefore would have no reason to be interested in helping you, I didn’t really feel it was relevant.”

“Yeah, well, Izzy and I aren’t our parents,” Alec says, glaring.

“Clearly. But I certainly had no way of knowing that. If a couple would rather give away their child and erase his memories instead of keeping him once he’s a werewolf, it stands to reason that they would raise their other children with similar values. I didn’t really see a reason to send Derek running after people he had no memory of, no way of finding, when there was every chance they wouldn’t lift a finger for him.”

Derek sighs, his temper dialing back. He has to remember that this is Peter he’s dealing with, and that Peter doesn’t do anything if he doesn’t think it’s going to benefit him. “Okay, fine. Peter, this is Alec. Alec, my Uncle Peter. So now we’re all acquainted and Alec has gotten a nice demonstration of the kind of person you are, let’s move on.”

“Indeed!” Peter is smiling. “So what is it that you need, nephew?”

“I’m not exactly sure where to start,” Derek says, “because as usual, I don’t know exactly what you already know. So let’s start with the basics. You know Dr. Deaton, right?” he asks, and Peter nods. “Do you know what he is?”

“Besides annoying?” Peter gives an elegant shrug. “He’s a warlock, isn’t he?”

“Right. Okay. So after you bit Scott and turned him into a werewolf, thus starting this whole mess – thanks for that, by the way – Deaton, whose real name is Alan Change, sat on his ass and didn’t help out even a little. Even though he undoubtedly could have. And we want to prove that to Scott, so he’ll stop relying on Deaton’s god damned advice.”

“That sounds _very_ unnecessarily complicated,” Peter says. “Why not just remove Deaton permanently?”

“Aside from the fact that he could probably hand any of us our asses?” Derek says. “Because we’re trying to be the good guys here. Removing Deaton would only piss Scott off.”

“There’s a remedy for that, too . . .”

Derek looks at the ceiling and prays for patience. “We’re not murdering Scott, so just put that idea out of your head right now.”

“If you insist.” Peter shrugs and leans back, thumping his boots down on the table. “All right, then. You want to prove that Deaton isn’t actually in this to help Scott or save lives. So you’re here to tell me to put a bunch of people in danger so Scott and his band of merry men can try to kill me? That sounds drastically unappealing.”

“Like you’re afraid of Scott,” Derek says.

“Hardly. But there’s no percentage for me in this plan. It would be a lot of hard work and absolutely no reward.”

“Just tell me what you want, then,” Derek says.

“To come up with a better plan,” Peter says, rolling his eyes. “Tell me, nephew, have you thought this through? Negligence is difficult, almost impossible, to prove. Deaton _could have_ helped Scott, but didn’t. He could have, say, prevented you from resurrecting me, but he didn’t. He could have found the Nemeton without drowning three teenagers, but he didn’t. There are countless incidents where Deaton could have acted, but didn’t, but how on earth are you going to prove that? Even if you manufacture another, there’s no way to prove that Deaton could have acted.”

“If we put Scott’s life in direct danger – ”

“Then Deaton _will_ help, because Deaton is not a fool. He’s a lot like me in some ways. He understands how to manipulate people. If you never offer help, then you get nowhere. You have to help just enough to make yourself look trustworthy, and then be conveniently elsewhere the rest of the time.”

“He’s right,” Alec says, his forehead creased in thought. “For one thing, if we put Scott in direct danger, Change will see the trap. He’ll know what we’re doing.”

“Besides, he can’t play with Scott if Scott is dead,” Peter says.

Derek sighs. “So what do you suggest? How do you prove negligence?”

“Duplicate the circumstances,” Peter says. “Prove that he could have acted by making him act.”

“I don’t think resurrecting you is going to come up a second time,” Derek says, his tone sour. “Although . . .”

“Cute, nephew,” Peter says. “To be honest, by now Scott really should have realized that Deaton knew he was a werewolf immediately and took no steps to help him. He should have figured that out the instant he realized Deaton did know – should have asked when he figured it out, and how, and why he hadn’t said anything. But, Scott trusts Deaton, so he didn’t. The more Deaton reveals he knows, the more Scott should think back and ask things like ‘didn’t you realize there was a kanima right away, didn’t you know who it was, couldn’t you have prevented some of these deaths’. But he doesn’t. Our dear little Scott just doesn’t think that way.”

“We’re waiting for you to get to the point,” Alec says.

Peter gives Alec an amused look. “Lord, you two are like. Fine, then. There is only one point I can think of when Deaton’s inaction was actually that, instead of just hoarding information to himself, and that’s when he was abducted by Jennifer Blake. A warlock of his caliber could have gotten away easily, but he allowed himself to be taken, and held. Why? Because he was pushing Scott. He wanted to see what Scott could do.”

“Okay, fine, but who cares?” Derek asks. “What does it matter?”

Peter looks at him in surprise. “You don’t remember what happened that night.”

“Look, a _lot_ was going on back then, excuse me if I didn’t keep a calendar.”

“Scott had to go rescue Deaton, but he did it by himself, because everyone else was busy with the alpha pack. With Deucalion coming after you.”

Derek blinks, then thinks back. His breath catches in his throat. “Boyd.” His voice cracks. “That’s the night Boyd died.”

Peter nods. “Would Scott’s presence have made a difference? I don’t know. It certainly couldn’t have _hurt_. But no, he had to go rescue his dear Dr. Deaton, who almost certainly could have taken care of himself. Leaving the rest of us to fend for ourselves. And as a result, perhaps not a direct result, but still a result, Boyd died.”

Derek swallows. His throat is suddenly tight, and there’s a thick, coppery taste in his throat. He can see Boyd in front of him, impaled on his claws, feel the life in him slip away.

“Hey,” Alec says, squeezing his shoulder. “Hey, Derek. Come on. Breathe.”

Derek manages to pull in some air. He looks up at his uncle, at his brother, and says, “I’m going to kill him.”

“No, you are not,” Alec says firmly. “Or if you are, you’re going to do it with help, and not just run off without a plan.”

Derek’s fists are clenching so hard that his claws are cutting into his palms. “He could have saved Erica, too. He probably knew exactly where the alphas were. She didn’t have to die. I didn’t have to lost either of them.” He chokes on the words. “That son of a bitch.”

“And nothing can be directly blamed on him, of course,” Peter says. “He keeps his hands clean. That’s the smart way to do it.”

“I don’t care,” Derek says. “I don’t care if he’s the one who struck the killing blow. If he’s half as powerful as Magnus seems to think he is, he could have prevented all of this, right from the fucking beginning. Nobody needed to die, not Erica or Boyd and – and maybe not any of our family, either. He lived here back then.”

“That’s a dangerous road to walk, nephew,” Peter says quietly. “As much as I mourn our family, there’s no evidence that Deaton could have done anything to prevent their deaths. The people responsible for that are dead. I made sure of that. If you start seeking revenge on everyone who _could have_ changed things, then soon there won’t be anyone left in the world but you.”

Derek forces himself to take a deep breath. When even Peter is telling him to put a lid on his homicidal rage, he’s probably right. After a moment, he manages a nod. “Thanks, Uncle Peter.”

“Not that this changes my opinion of Deaton’s current actions, or lack thereof,” Peter says. “In any case, this is the one thing I believe we can pin him on. Scott wasn’t close to Boyd, but he did mourn him, and with his savior complex, it will be easy to convince him that his presence would have made a difference – had he not needed to get Deaton.”

“So we just need to abduct Deaton and then watch him rescue himself?” Alec says. “Guess I’d better call Magnus. We’re gonna need his help with that.”

“We can’t just throw Scott into it, though,” Peter warns. “He’ll be disinclined to believe us, even with evidence. It needs to come from a different source.”

Derek nods. “We need Isaac. I – I was a shit alpha, and he’s got no reason to even look at me, but he and Boyd were close. He’ll listen. And he can talk to Scott.”

“Well, then,” Peter says, and smiles. “Let’s get to work.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~


	13. Chapter 13

 

“I don’t know, man,” Isaac says, after Derek has explained things to him. He’s chewing on his lower lip, looking anxious. “I wanted to beat the shit out of the twins and drive them out of town, but Scott told me to chill. You know, that they weren’t that bad. They were only taking orders, really it was Kali who had killed Boyd.”

Derek has to stop and take a deep breath. He had let Deucalion go – against his better judgment – because Scott had seemed to think it was the right thing to do. But the twins? If they had left, he would have let that go, but they were still hanging around? “Tell me he hasn’t made them part of his pack.”

“No, he didn’t go that far, but seemed to think that they might prove themselves someday, or something like that.”

“Great,” Derek mutters. “Look, all we can do is try, okay?” He eyes Isaac for a minute. “Do you believe me? About Deaton?”

“It makes sense,” Isaac says. “Besides, Allison had already told me some of it. She heard the recording that Stiles had made, and she was beyond pissed at Deaton. I guess I don’t see any reason not to believe you. It’s not like Deaton has ever really done anything for me. And if he’s hurting Scott, then we need to stop him.”

“Okay.” Derek lets out a breath and forces himself to think things over. “I know you don’t really talk to Stiles, but Allison does, so can you tell her not to mention this to him?”

Isaac looks skeptical. “Look, I don’t really care, but why wouldn’t we tell him? It’s not like he’d argue.”

“No, he wouldn’t. He’d want to help. And I don’t want him to help, because you know how pissed Scott is going to be.”

“So you’re okay with Scott being pissed at me, but not at Stiles?” Isaac doesn’t seem annoyed. More than anything he seems amused.

“Look, it’s different with you, it’s – ” Derek cuts himself off and sighs. “Stiles is the one who tried to convince him in the first place. So now if Stiles is involved in this whole thing, it’ll be like he’s pushing the issue after Scott shut him down.”

“You know,” Peter chimes in, “you’re making things awfully difficult on yourself for no reason. You obviously want Stiles to stay in New York with you. Wouldn’t it be beneficial for you in the long run if he and Scott were no longer on good terms?”

Everyone in the room turns to give Peter a look. He doesn’t flinch. “Peter,” Derek finally says, “stop trying to help me.”

Peter smirks. “You know I’m right.”

“Of course you’re right. And yes, Scott being pissed at Stiles would probably lead to him staying in New York City, up until the point he figured out that I knew what was going to happen and let it, whereupon he’d only be pissed off at me. He’d probably move to Timbuktu. And that’s just the _logical_ problem I have with your suggestion. Let’s not even get into the ethical debate, since I know it wouldn’t get me anywhere with you anyway.”

“Fair enough,” Peter says. “How do you plan on duplicating the circumstances of Deaton’s imprisonment? None of us were there.”

“Yeah, and we can’t exactly ask Scott,” Derek says, frowning.

“How similar does it have to be?” Alec asks. “I mean, just showing off Deaton’s real power should be enough.”

“Let’s not give Scott any excuse to convince himself that different circumstances mean something,” Derek says.

Alec looks skeptical. “He’s that stubborn?”

“You didn’t hear the recording,” Isaac says. “Deaton all but came out and said ‘well, sure, I knew you were probably going to die horribly if you got possessed, but think of how much easier it would have been for me that way!’ and Scott still tried to say that Deaton was just trying to protect people.”

“Yikes,” Alec says.

“Anyway, Sheriff Stilinski was there,” Isaac says. “He’s actually the one who got Deaton down, because Scott couldn’t cross over the mountain ash. I don’t know exactly how much detail he’ll remember, but it ought to be enough.”

“Won’t he tell Stiles?” Alec says, frowning.

“I don’t think so, not if we explain why we don’t want Stiles in the know,” Derek says. “In theory, this shouldn’t be dangerous, not with Magnus helping out.” He glances at Alec and says, “Uh, right?”

“Well, don’t get me wrong, I don’t exactly want to get _between_ two warlocks who are having a smackdown, but Magnus will make sure that nobody besides Change gets hurt.” Alec shrugs a little. “Besides, we won’t even need to be there, not when the most of it goes down.”

“Scott will need to see it,” Isaac says. “I mean, he’ll need to be there.”

“So we’ll get a building with windows,” Derek says. “Let’s get to work.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

It takes Stiles a little while, but he finds a quiet spot towards the back of the Institute, a corner where nobody is currently working. He could start in the file room, which is now officially his territory, but he would only get distracted there. Magnus has been very clear on him about how important focus is. To be fair, that's something of a hot button issue for Stiles to begin with, thanks to his ADD. Sometimes, he can focus like a motherfucker. At other times, it's simply impossible.

But the best way to do it will be to get rid of as many distractions as he can. So he's sitting in an empty hallway, eyes closed, feeling the single coffee bean he's holding in his hand. Magnus had hidden the jar it had come from somewhere in the Institute, and he's trying to find it.

Location spells, Magnus had told him, are some of the most basic and therefore easiest spells to work. They're also quite handy. Stiles can't count the number of times he's trying to figure out where he left his phone or his keys, and he's watched his father do the same, especially with his reading glasses. It's a cliché because it's true. The idea of being able to simply snap his fingers and follow the spell to an item is intriguing.

Not that he particularly needs to find this jar of coffee, but "big things are made of smaller things", according to Magnus. The easiest locator spells to do involve finding something of which you already have a part. Magnus has set up a little scavenger hunt at the Institute to keep Stiles occupied while he's looking for Edwin Scratch. Stiles isn't sure what Derek is up to. Hanging out with his siblings, presumably.

He turns the coffee bean around and around in his fingers, feeling the texture, breathing in the scent. He pictures the jar of coffee in his mind.

"How is this going to work?" he had asked Magnus, several hours earlier. "I mean, is a path going to light up on the floor or something?"

"Everyone is different," Magnus said with a shrug. "I can't say for sure how it'll work for you. But if you're imagining a path, it wouldn't surprise me if that was what you got."

Stiles is expecting it to be flashy, but it isn’t. He imagines seeing the hallway, seeing a path laid out in front of him in white. When he opens his eyes, it isn’t there. But when his eyes are closed, it is. On impulse, he follows it, closing his eyes at each intersection to see where the path goes.

It’s not exactly the easiest way to do it, but it works. He finds himself in a little workroom, and the jar of coffee is sitting on a shelf. He opens it to deposit the last bean. Sitting on top is a white bead and a note.

“Let’s see what you can do if you don’t know what you’re looking for,” Magnus’ note says.

Stiles grimaces a little despite himself, but gives it a whirl. He’s seen a lot of Magnus’ jewelry, so he tries picturing different bracelets and necklaces that the bead might belong to. He doesn’t think he needs to get it exactly right as long as he knows approximately what he’s looking for.

It takes time, but magic is teaching him patience just as much as it’s teaching him focus. Almost an hour goes by before he manages to picture a path in his mind and follow it to a necklace on the bureau in Alec’s room.

There, the item that Magnus had left him is a feather. He looks at it suspiciously for a few  moments. Magnus had showed him that he could use a feather to summon an entire flock of birds. "Of course, summoning is a lot more difficult than finding," he had said at the time. "But with time and practice, that's the sort of result you can get with this spell."

When Stiles had asked if something of that sort would be on this particular scavenger hunt, Magnus had started to answer but Alec had cut him off. "If you even think about releasing live animals into my Institute so Stiles can track them down, I will make you regret it."

"How?" Magnus answered, smirking at him.

Alec, clearly aware that Magnus thought he wouldn't want to say anything crude in front of Stiles, didn't flinch. "I will wear tight pants and fingerless gloves while refusing to sleep with you for a week."

"That's just cruel and unusual," Magnus said, feigning dismay, and it was Alec's turn to smirk.

Given that conversation, Stiles doesn't expect that he'll be finding any live animals on this assignment, and he sure as hell hopes that Magnus isn't having him hunt for a dead one.

It takes him over an hour to banish the thought of the bird that he's _not_ looking for well enough to find the coat with the feathered fringe that Magnus left for him. He looks at it skeptically, wondering whether or not Magnus ever wears it. The warlock claims to be able to make anything look stylish, but Stiles is pretty sure that there are limits and this hits them.

Pinned to the coat's collar is an envelope. Inside is a note that reads, "One more. This challenge will be different." There are two other objects in the envelope. One is a peculiar looking key, the head of which is the same as any other key, but the rest of it has no teeth. It's just a smooth line. The second object is the enter key to some hapless keyboard.

Finding the keyboard it came from is easy. With practice now, Stiles closes his eyes and focuses and has the path laid out before him in under a minute. But when he gets to the room the spell directed him to, the door is locked. He looks down at the key Magnus gave him and slides it in, but attempts to turn it yield no result. Stiles takes the key out and studies it curiously. Magnus clearly wants him to figure this out himself. The key is obviously - well, the key. Stiles idly slides it in and out a few times, feeling how smooth the movement is without any teeth to catch. He closes his eyes and thinks about how locks work, thinks about the key filling out to correctly manipulate the tumblers and line up the internal mechanism. He does it over and over again, not really aware of time passing.

There's a sudden thunk and the key twists underneath his hand. His eyes snap open and a bright grin crosses his face without his even realizing it. He goes into the closet and finds the keyboard. It comes with one last note, which reads, "Congratulations! You don't realize it yet, but you're going to be exhausted and starving as soon as this catches up with you - probably about an hour. Take a taxi back to the loft. Dinner's waiting for you there."

It turns out that Magnus is correct. By the time the taxi has pulled up outside the loft, he _is_ exhausted. He's half-afraid that Magnus will want him to use the key trick again to get in, but the door isn't locked. Magnus rarely bothers to lock it, relying instead on his magical protections. There's a stack of Styrofoam containers sitting on the table for him, full of still-warm Chinese food. Stiles starts filling his face.

He's just about done eating when the door opens and Derek comes in. "Hey," Stiles says, swallowing down a mouthful of chow mein.

Derek startles and looks strangely guilty. "Hey. What have you been up to all day?"

"Magic stuff. Magnus taught me how to unlock doors!"

"God help us all," Derek says. Stiles just looks more proud of himself at this reaction. Derek quickly changes the subject by pointing to the food and saying, "Enough for two?"

"Enough for an army, yeah," Stiles says. "Though I might have eaten enough for a battalion. Apparently magic really takes it out of you." He yawns a little as Derek snags a container of fried rice and sits down on the sofa. He feels warm and mellow, tired but relaxed and okay. He puts his plate in the sink and decides to make himself tea instead of having more coffee. Magnus has an impressive selection.

While he's waiting for the water to boil, he leans over Derek's shoulder to see what he's doing on his laptop. "Hey, apartment listings, nice," he says. Derek scowls at him, but it's the sort of scowl he reserves for Stiles that doesn't really mean anything. "I guess you and Cora decided against staying at the Institute?"

"It would be too awkward, especially for her," Derek says. "I mean, those are basically barracks, for the people who work there. We don't belong. Having our own place would be better. Magnus probably wants us out of his hair sooner rather than later."

"You think so?" Stiles fidgets. "Maybe I should - "

"Not you," Derek says, interrupting him before he can say anything stupid. "You're his apprentice, it's totally different. Besides, it's a lot different having one person stay in your place than having three." He goes back to his typing. "Plus, we're werewolves. We need our own space in a way that you don't."

"Yeah, I don't really foresee being eager to live in my own place, like . . . ever," Stiles admits. "After everything that's happened. Totally happy to be living with the super-powerful warlock guy." The kettle starts to whistle, and he goes into the kitchen to make his tea. When he comes out a minute later, Derek has pulled up a brownstone apartment. "Hey, Derek? Can I ask you something?"

Derek looks up, a little apprehensive, but says, "Sure."

"Do you think it's a bad thing that I don't really want to go back to Beacon Hills?"

"No," Derek says, his answer so immediate and vehement that his cheeks then color pink.

Stiles clears his throat and looks away. "No, but, I mean, like not ever. I just think I would be okay never going back there, if only I could get my dad to move here."

"I don't think that's a bad thing," Derek says. "Actually I think that's a pretty normal thing. I mean, you went through a lot. It sucked. So the change of scenery was nice. Then you found things here that you really like, learning magic and working on the cold cases. So honestly, it would surprise me more if you _did_ want to go back."

"Scott thinks it's weird. That I would just leave. It's like he thinks I'm running away. I guess it feels like I am."

Derek rubs a hand through his hair and won't look at Stiles for a minute. "You're not running away. If I recall correctly, your dad and I practically had to lever you into my car with a crowbar. And there's a difference between moving away from something and moving towards something. Trust me, because I know. Laura and I _did_ run away from Beacon Hills. We just wanted to be _anywhere_ else. But you - you found something here that you want. You found a future for yourself. What the hell kind of future were you going to have in Beacon Hills?"

"It feels . . . selfish," Stiles admits. "To leave everyone else holding the bag after I got Scott into this in the first place. It was my stupid idea to go look for that body. He got turned into a werewolf because of that."

Derek is already shaking his head. "Trust me on this, Stiles, because I'm the reigning expert on survivor's guilt. What happened to Scott was not your fault. Was it a dumb idea? Sure. Was it a mistake? Absolutely. But did you bite Scott? No. Did you deliberately put him in harm's way? Also no. Something bad happened, and it was terrible, and _everyone_ had to live with the consequences. If there was any punishment you deserved for what you did, I think it's been more than meted out by now. Besides, you're assuming that neither of you would have gotten involved if Scott hadn't gotten bitten, and I don't think that's true. Scott still would have wound up dating Allison, and could have gotten involved that way. Or you could have gotten involved through your father's investigation. It would have gone differently, that's true, but there's no guarantee that it would have gone _better_."

Stiles thinks this all over for a minute. "I guess that's true."

"So yeah, I think it makes sense that you want to stay here, and I don't think there's anything wrong with it. I mean." Derek flushes a little and looks away. "I feel like it can't be a complete coincidence that we met, you know? You helped me find my family, and I can't - I can't put into words how much that means to me. Yes, you could help people and do a lot of good in Beacon Hills. But you could help people and do a lot of good _here_. Haven't you helped Alec and the others track down four demons?"

"Six now!" Stiles says, puffing out with pride despite himself.

"Then that's important. Beacon Hills will calm down. They're going to get the Nemeton stabilized, they're going to clean it up. The people there will be okay."

"I guess." Stiles blows on top of his tea and then takes a sip. "Thanks, Derek. I still feel weird about it, but less bad-weird and more just weird-weird."

"Whatever that means," Derek says, but his cheeks are turning pink again.

"Yeah, yeah. Shove over and let me see that laptop. You couldn't do a Boolean search if your life depended on it."

“I totally could - if I knew what that meant," Derek mutters, relinquishing the laptop into Stiles' waiting hands.

 

~ ~ ~ ~


	14. Chapter 14

 

Sheriff Stilinski rubs his forehead with the palm of his hand and says, “Do I even _want_ to know why you’re asking me for the details of the time when Alan got kidnapped?”

“Probably not,” Derek says.

“How about you tell me anyway?”

Derek sighs. He had expected that, really. Tom has been involved in too much supernatural bullshit to do this without explanation. He just hopes that Stiles’ father isn’t going to pitch a fit over their plan. “We want to prove to Scott that Deaton could have helped him on multiple occasions and didn’t. So we’re trying to duplicate the circumstances as closely as possible.”

“Uh huh.” Tom considers this for a long minute, tapping his pen against the edge of the table. “Stiles know about this?”

“No,” Derek says, and tries not to cringe, waiting for the inevitable.

“Good.” Tom takes out a sheet of paper and starts sketching. “Now, this is just to the best of my recollection . . .”

Derek eyes him warily. “You’re not going to insist we tell Stiles?”

“No, hell no. If he’s off chasing cold case leads in New York City while we clean this up, that’s the best news I’ve had all day. If he’s pissed off later, I’ll handle it. Hell, if he’s pissed at you, you can dump it on me. I don’t mind.” Tom continues sketching. “But I hope you aren’t handling this on your own.”

“Magnus and Alec are helping,” Derek says. “Isaac, too. He’s going to talk to Scott, since we think Scott might actually listen to him. He can at least get Scott to the right place at the right time.”

“Okay.” Tom puts down the pencil. “So this is the layout of the room as best as I can remember. Deaton was in a circle of that mountain ash stuff. He was suspended from the ceiling by his wrists.”

“Suffocation,” Derek says, trying to ignore the dread in the pit of his stomach as he thinks back to what Jennifer did to her victims. “I remember.”

“When I got there, Scott was trying to break through the barrier. He couldn’t, so I shot the rope.”

“Why didn’t you just go get him down?” Derek asks, frowning. “You can get through mountain ash.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know that at the time.” Tom shrugs. “All I saw was that there was some sort of barrier Scott couldn’t get past, so I decided to try that instead. So you think Deaton could have gotten himself out of this without help?”

“Easily, according to Magnus,” Derek says.

Tom considers all this for a minute. “You don’t think he’ll see that it’s a trap?”

“I think if we’re careful, we’ll be okay. Peter is going to create a distraction so Deaton will ‘know’ that Scott is busy elsewhere.”

“Oh. We’re involving Peter. Super.” Tom shakes his head. “Let’s go see what Magnus has in mind for the details.”

“Okay.” Derek gets on the phone to see where Alec is at. Magnus has just gotten back to the loft – he’s been out a lot lately, looking for some warlock that Stiles thinks might have Derek’s memories. He’s demanded a hot shower before he has to do any more work, so Alec says they’ll be in Beacon Hills in a half hour. Derek relays this to Sheriff Stilinski, then says, “So, uh, I could go – ”

“Nah, get yourself some coffee, have a seat,” Tom says. Derek does so, somewhat nervously. “How’s Stiles doing?”

“Uh, he seems okay. He’s learning locator and summoning spells right now. Magnus taught him how to unlock doors for some godawful reason.”

“Oh, Lord.” Tom pinches the bridge of his nose, huffing with laughter despite himself. “As if my son wasn’t already enough of a juvenile delinquent. I’d better have a talk with Magnus before he teaches him how to do the Jedi mind trick. Then there’ll be no stopping him.” He gets his own mug of coffee, sits back, frowning again. “You’ve seen Star Wars, right?”

“Yeah. Who hasn’t seen Star Wars?”

“Scott, for one.”

“Oh.” Derek blinks. “But Stiles loves Star Wars. He quotes it all the time. How can Scott have not seen it?”

Tom studies him over the rim of his mug, then says, “Good. It’s not just me who thought about asking that question.”

“So it’s not a question I’m going to get an answer to?”

“Not today, at least.” Tom is considering Derek again, in that way that makes Derek deeply nervous. “Why are you trying to help Scott? I know you two aren’t friends.”

Derek clears his throat and tries not to think about how many times he’s been annoyed or jealous or just plain pissed off at Scott. “Somebody has to.”

“Mm hm.” Tom clearly doesn’t buy this for a minute. “It’s not really your problem, though.”

“Well, no, but it isn’t Stiles’ problem anymore, either, but he doesn’t want to let it go.” Derek won’t look at Sheriff Stilinski. “If Scott isn’t safe, then Stiles will never stop trying to come back here. And I don’t want him to come back here. I’m sorry if that bothers you, being his dad and all, but he’s safer, happier, in New York City. I think he should stay there. I know that’s not up to me, that he’ll have to decide on his own, but if keeping Scott safe makes it more likely, I figure I can at least give it a try.”

“Well put,” Tom says, “and no, it doesn’t upset me. Trust me, I’ve noticed the change in Stiles, too.” He checks his watch. “If we’re meeting Magnus at the loft, we should get going.”

“Okay.” Derek isn’t exactly sure what his reaction is supposed to be, but whatever that test was, he thinks he passed it. He doesn’t have his car with him, so they take the cruiser. Tom asks some questions about life in New York City, and Derek tells him about his apartment search. Tom gives him the side-eye a couple times, but doesn’t comment on where Stiles is going to stay long-term, which is what Derek thinks he’s wondering about.

“So how are we going to do this?” Tom asks, once they’ve met Magnus and Alec at the loft. Izzy is on an assignment, but Alec doesn’t think they’ll need her.

“That depends somewhat,” Magnus says.

“On?”

“Well, you, actually,” Magnus says, and Tom frowns at him. “There aren’t many ways to sneak up on a warlock. But our senses are dullest when it comes to mundanes. Put me in a room with the three of you and have me close my eyes and I could still tell you exactly where Derek and Alec were standing, but I’d have difficulty locating you – and if I didn’t know to look for you, I might not know you were there.”

Tom nods slowly. “So I’m the person best equipped to actually get the drop on Deaton, is what you’re saying.”

“Precisely. A taser or a stun gun would do the trick. We may have a few special features,” Magnus adds, his eyes momentarily flaring gold and feline, “but our bodies are primarily human and accordingly fragile. Now, it won’t put him out for long, but by then I can make my entrance and see that he’s properly subdued.”

“So my job is to keep his focus on me, while Tom gets behind him?” Derek asks.

Magnus nods. “He won’t see you as a threat. But you’re amusing enough to him that it’ll keep his attention.”

“Gee, that’s great,” Derek mutters.

“How much time is Peter going to need to prepare?” Alec asks.

“And what is he doing, or should we not ask?” Tom adds.

Derek grimaces a little. “He said he was going to talk to Lydia. Or actually, he wanted to talk to Lydia, and I told him not to. Isaac will talk to Allison, who will talk to Lydia. Long story short, Scott is going to think that Peter’s doing something terrible to Lydia, when in reality Lydia will probably be hanging out somewhere solving Fermat’s Last Theorem. Scott will, of course, need to consult with Deaton on this before rushing off to rescue her.”

“That works,” Tom says. “He shouldn’t need much time, then.”

“Just a few days to play telephone, since nobody will talk to Peter except me,” Derek confirms.

“I have things I need to do in the meantime,” Magnus says. “I’m going to be out of town for a few days. We can put things in motion when I get back.”

Tom nods. “That works for me.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

The assorted Hales, Lightwoods, and Stilinskis are in the middle of a rousing game of Apples to Apples when Magnus comes in, looking altogether too pleased with himself. He drops a kiss on the top of Alec’s head, and then Alec turns around for a better kiss. Magnus obliges, then taps Alec on the lips and says, “Guess what.”

“What?” Alec asks, smiling up at him, bright and happy.

“There is a warlock by the name of Edwin Scratch who thinks he might have some memories belonging to someone here.”

Derek looks up, a touch of excitement on his face. Alec is nervous despite himself, and blurts out, “Oh. Wow.” Then he looks at Derek and sees that he’s clearly pleased. “Thank you.”

Magnus just smiles at him. “Shall we? He’s expecting us.”

Alec nods and looks over at Derek. “If you’re ready.”

“Yeah,” Derek says, getting to his feet. “Yeah, I am.”

“Edwin is not overly fond of strangers, so I would suggest we limit this to as few people as possible,” Magnus says. “He’s already annoyed at me for insisting that Alec come along. Stiles, Cora, Izzy, do you mind waiting here?”

“Well, I’m not in love with the idea,” Cora grumps, “but I’m okay with it if Derek is.”

“I . . .” Derek hesitates. He’d like the steadiness of having Cora or Stiles along, but he doesn’t want to spook the warlock either. “Yeah. Also not in love with it, but I’ll deal.”

“I’ll be with you the whole time,” Alec says, then looks at Magnus as if he’s expecting him to argue.

“Obviously,” Magnus says. He gestures to the portal he makes, and Derek and Alec follow him through it. They come out in an alley that looks like it could be the setting of a horror movie. It’s dark and narrow and smells a lot like mud. There’s a fire escape on their right, but Derek doesn’t see anything else until Magnus waves one hand and the staircase swings aside to reveal a door. It’s made of mahogany, far too classy for such an area, and there’s a door knocker shaped like a cat’s head which Magnus wastes no time in using. The peephole opens, and then the door does.

Edwin is tall but thin, quite pale, with eyes that are decidedly feline, one sky blue, the other grass green. He’s wearing a business suit that looks like it had come from the 1920s. He hastily shuts the door as they come in. “Magnus,” he says, his voice a little squeaky from nerves.

“Edwin.” Magnus waves a hand. “Alec Lightwood and his brother, Derek Lightwood-Hale, as we discussed.”

Derek moves forward, wondering why this guy is so nervous. “Thanks for seeing me.”

“You’re welcome.” Edwin frowns, then turns to Magnus and says anxiously, “You understand, I didn’t break the Accords. I only did what I did at his parents’ request, and honestly, in his best interests.”

Magnus shrugs. “Justify yourself to him. Not to me.”

“What did happen?” Derek asks.

Edwin paces back and forth. “I told them that removing your memories wasn’t necessary. _Talia_ told them that it wasn’t necessary. But they insisted. I just figured – if they were determined it was going to be done, better to do it myself and make sure that it was done properly. Memory spells can be so fickle, if they’re flawed, they can cause all manner of mental issues – ”

“Well, God knows that talking to Maryse is like talking to a brick wall.” Derek sighs. “I appreciate you not allowing someone else to hurt me in the process.”

“You say that now.” Edwin picks up a crystal off of a shelf stacked with oddities. “You might not when this is over.”

“No, I might want to punch you then, so I figured I would say it while I was rational.”

Alec gives a snort of laughter. Edwin just shakes his head and looks even more nervous. “Well. Ready whenever you are.”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Edwin nods. He holds the crystal at eye level with Derek and breathes onto it gently. A cloud of green energy emerges from it and dissipates into Derek’s face. Derek blinks as the memories seep in, clearly seeing something different from the room they’re standing in. For several long minutes, he’s quiet. Different emotions play over his face: fear, anger, guilt, fear. Then, suddenly, he starts looking around wildly. “Alec? Alec!”

“Hey, hey, I’m here, I’ve got you,” Alec says, grabbing him and helping him sink to the ground. “I’ve got you, Derek.”

Derek clings hard, his entire body shaking, more like a scared little boy than a werewolf in his twenties. Magnus leaves them be and turns to Edwin. “He was asking for his brother when it happened, wasn’t he.”

Edwin nods. “Yeah. He . . . he begged for him. Magnus, I just wanted to help the kid. Please believe that.”

“I do. And you judged Maryse right. She would have gone to someone with less skill or just killed him outright. You might have actually saved his life.”

Edwin breathes out a sigh of relief. “I’m glad to hear you say that. Still probably gonna get punched, though. I guess I probably deserve that.”

Magnus arches an eyebrow, amused. “I doubt it. He seems to be a fairly gentle, if incredibly grumpy, soul.”

“I wasn’t worried about _him_ ,” Edwin says, and gestures to where Alec is holding onto his brother, rocking him back and forth, and scowling at Edwin.

“Ah. Yes. Alec is less of a gentle soul. But I suspect that we’ll be leaving soon.”

“I’ll just make myself scarce, then,” Edwin says, and heads into the kitchen.

After several long minutes, Derek seems to work through the hysteria. “I just wanted to see you. To see if you were okay,” he mumbles into Alec’s shirt. He gives a shaky little laugh. “Also I was hurt and scared stupid.”

“Mom didn’t even tell you I was okay?” Alec is clearly torn between shock and horror. “Oh . . . oh my God. I’m going to . . . I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

Derek shakes his head. “They were too busy trying to get me to shut up and move.”

“Jesus.” Alec rakes a hand back through his hair. “I can’t – I can’t believe they did that to you.”

Derek sits back a little, although he’s still so close that their foreheads are almost touching. “They told you I was dead. I’m starting to think that they’re just terrible people.”

Alec gives a snort of laughter. “Well, that sure as hell seems to be the truth.” He reaches up and smoothes Derek’s hair out of his face. “Come on. Let’s get back to the loft, huh? Let’s go home.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Derek gets to his feet and then offers a hand to pull Alec up. Alec accepts it, then pulls him into a hug once they’re both on their feet. Eventually, they start towards the door. “We’re leaving,” Derek calls out. “Without punching you. Thanks for giving my memories back.”

“You’re welcome.” Edwin peeks out of the kitchen. “If you need anything, call someone else. Not me. I won’t be here.”

Magnus gives a snort, but doesn’t object. Derek manages a wan smile. He’s wondering if he can get Magnus to make him one of those werewolf-rated drinks as they head through the portal and back into the loft. He does relax some once they’re inside, and he finally feels the exhaustion that regaining his memories had resulted in. He collapses onto the sofa, where Izzy is already sitting. For the first time, he looks at her and really feels like she’s his sister, and he curls up almost in her lap. “I remember you now.”

Izzy gives him a brilliant smile and gives him a huge hug, one hand ruffling the back of his hair. Stiles bounces to his feet with excitement. “So it worked? He really had your memories?”

Derek leans into Izzy’s embrace. “Yeah. He did. They were even pretty good memories, until the end.” He can’t remember Robert or Maryse ever being warm or loving, but he’d had Alec and Izzy, and that had made it pretty good.

“Wow,” Stiles says. “I can’t believe we really did it.”

Magnus comes out of the kitchen with a tray of drinks for everybody, moving each one to its intended target with a flick of his fingers. “You must have a splitting headache.”

Derek takes his gratefully. “The last time I had a headache this bad it was right after I’d gotten a face full of powdered wolfsbane.”

Alec takes his drink and settles on the sofa so Derek is between him and Izzy. Magnus drapes himself on Alec’s lap. “So, uh,” Alec says, frowning faintly, “are you feeling okay, you know, other than the headache?”

“Yeah.” Derek starts to nod but then thinks better of the idea. “I’m fine. I’m good, even. I have all the missing pieces and both parts of my family.” He nudges Cora where she sits comfortably on the floor so she knows that she’s included.

“Sap,” she says, swatting at his foot.

“Actually, I . . . I remember meeting Mom for the first time.” Derek is quiet for a minute. “When I was completely freaking out, and nobody was paying attention to me, Mom was the one who sat down and told me I was going to be okay. She held my hand while Edwin removed my memories. She made sure that I wasn’t alone.”

“That sounds like Mom.” Cora snuffles a little and then glares around the room, daring anyone to say anything. “She always had time for us.”

“I’m really glad that you got such an amazing family,” Izzy says, giving Derek another squeeze. “I mean, I’m not glad we lost you, but if it had to happen, at least you were happy there.”

“It was really good. The family, the pack.” He doesn’t say ‘until it was over’. He doesn’t have to. “Except we didn’t have a cat. I have no idea why Church of all things is the one that stuck.”

“Oh, I do,” Magnus says, idly combing his fingers through Alec’s hair. “Edwin adores cats. He probably left a bit of him in there on purpose, figuring it would be a comfort to you. That’s how we found him, actually. How Stiles found him, to be precise.”

“Well, I can’t fault him. It did help.” Derek looks at Stiles and manages a smile. “Thanks.”

Stiles immediately flushes pink. “Oh, well, I, uh. Yeah. You’re welcome.”

“Then all’s well that ends well, no?” Magnus says, with a bright smile.

“Except for the fifteen years of misery?” Alec says.

“Well, is there a productive way to make her as miserable as she made us?” Derek asks.

“I’m assuming we can’t just punch her in the face until she stops, right?” Cora asks.

Alec gives a little snort. “Why do you think Lydia gave Stiles all those cold cases to work? When Mom figures out that a semi-mundane semi-downworlder is clearing up her case backlog, she’s going to have an aneurysm.”

“I like your Lydia,” Derek says.

“Wait, so, you guys are having me do all that stuff because you want to show up Maryse?” Stiles blinks at them. “Because on the surface I’m basically a loser? That . . . that is so mean and spiteful and petty. I’m on board like five hundred percent.”

That gets a laugh out of Derek from where he’s comfortably slouched in between Izzy and Alec. Cora picks up her drink coaster and tosses it at Stiles half-heartedly. Alec just shakes his head and says, “No, we really do appreciate the work you’re doing for the Institute. But trust me, Mom’s gonna hate it when she finds out.”

“Well, pissing people off is a specialty of mine,” Stiles says, and everyone laughs again.

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

“You seem awfully distracted,” Magnus says, tracing a finger over the cords of Alec’s neck, before leaning in to plant a kiss in the same place. “I’m not getting anywhere at all with you tonight, am I.”

“Hm? Oh, sorry.” Alec flushes pink. “I was just lost in thought, that’s all.”

“No need to apologize, Alexander.” Magnus rolls over so he can prop himself up on one elbow. “What’s on your mind?”

“I was just thinking about Derek, and . . . everything he’s gone through.” Alec sits up, folding his legs underneath himself. “God, he was so upset the other day. You didn’t see him when we were in Beacon Hills, when he was talking about what had happened to his two betas. He just . . . nearly fell apart.”

Magnus nods a little. “His grief is nearly equal to his guilt. But he’ll overcome that, I think, with time and with love.”

“I know. But Change . . .” Alec’s voice hardens. “Are we really going to let him get away with what he’s done?”

“Unfortunately, we don’t have many good choices,” Magnus says. “Alan Change is far too careful to have done anything for which we could bring him before the Clave. I would fight him if I had to, if I couldn’t avoid it, but I’d prefer not to. He’s less powerful, but he’s older than me, and underhanded in a way that I’m not. Exposing who he really is to the people in Beacon Hills and sending him elsewhere truly might be our best option.”

“None of that’s untrue, but . . .” Alec struggles with it for a minute. “But he hurt my brother. How can I just let him walk away?”

Magnus reaches over and runs his hand through Alec’s hair. “If you do anything to him, you’d be interfering in Downworlder affairs. You could lose the Institute. More than that, you could start a war.”

“Maybe my brother is more important to me than the Institute,” Alec says.

“As he should be,” Magnus says. He lets Alec ignore his second statement, knowing that Alec doesn’t have a good response to it. “And if doing this would save him, bring back someone he had lost, if it would truly ease his pain, then I would support you. But it won’t, Alec. Punishing Change won’t accomplish anything.”

“It won’t save the people Derek cared about, but you know Change won’t stop. He’ll just find some new place to go, new people to manipulate. How can we let him get away with that?”

“Alec.” Magnus rests a finger on Alec’s lips. “You can’t touch him. Not without losing everything you’ve fought for, everything you’ve worked for.”

Alec thinks about that for a long minute. Finally, he says, “What if I’m willing to do that?”

“Then I would tell you not to.” Magnus leans in, his lips brushing over Alec’s. “You can’t touch him. But I can. What do you want me to do, Alexander? Just say the word. I’ll see it done.”

“You said you didn’t want to fight him.”

“Oh, I don’t.” Magnus pulls back. “He’s older than me and he knows tricks I’ve never thought about learning. But my darling, I know a few tricks, too.”

Alec lets out a breath, and then nods. “Okay,” he says. “What do you have in mind?”

 

~ ~ ~ ~


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so excited about this chapter! =D

 

Walking into Deaton’s office, Derek has a feeling that he’s the only one who’s nervous. Magnus has taken on a cavalier attitude about this entire affair, which Derek supposes is his right, given how powerful he is. Alec, for his part, just seems to have utter faith that Magnus will step in if something goes wrong. Derek isn’t sure what Sheriff Stilinski is thinking. Unlike Stiles, the sheriff can be hard to read sometimes.

“You don’t need to be so anxious,” Izzy said, shortly before Derek had left. “All warlocks have one hugely exploitable weakness, and that’s their arrogance.”

“I beg your pardon, darling,” Magnus said, with a wink.

Izzy smirked at him, then turned back and squeezed Derek’s hand. “I know that hearing ‘Deaton doesn’t see you as a threat’ doesn’t make you feel better, but it _is_ a good thing. He’s never going to see this coming because of that. So just go in there, follow the plan. Alec and I will come in if anything goes wrong.”

That had been an hour ago. Now Derek is pushing open the door and going into the familiar clinic. He knows Deaton will be there. Scott had only left fifteen minutes previous, rushing off to ‘save Lydia’. At some point, Isaac will tell him what they’re _really_ doing, and get him to the right place. As interesting as it might be to be a fly on the wall for that conversation, Derek thinks he’s glad he’s missing it.

“I was wondering when I might see you again,” Deaton says, as Derek walks in. “New York not everything you hoped it would be?”

“New York’s fine.” Derek shuts the door behind himself and folds his arms over his chest. “I have a question for you.”

“By all means.” Deaton looks amused, then says, “By the way, are you recording this? I just feel like I should know.”

“Should I be?” Derek asks. “It’s not like it did any good last time. You can spin anything, apparently.” He waits to see if Deaton is going to respond, but he doesn’t. In theory, this shouldn’t take long. Tom is going to be coming in through the back. He won’t need a lot of time. “Okay. My question. What do I have to do to get you to leave Beacon Hills and never come back?”

Deaton’s eyebrows go up. “Why do you care? You don’t live here anymore. Beacon Hills’ problems are no longer yours.”

“I care because Stiles cares,” Derek says.

“Of course. Stiles.” Deaton smiles. “Have you told him you’re in love with him yet?”

Derek nearly chokes, because of course Tom Stilinski chooses _that moment_ to walk in through the room’s other door. He forces himself _not_ to look at the sheriff, who stopped with his eyebrows up. “That’s none of your business.”

“Well, my residence here is none of yours, so I figured I might as well ask.” Deaton just shakes his head. “Do you have any idea how angry he’s going to be once he finds out what you’ve done? Hidden things from him, lied to him, gone behind his back?”

“I don’t care.” Now Derek knows what to say. “He can be angry with me if he wants. That’s his right. But loving someone is about more than wanting them to love you back. It’s about protecting them, helping them, even when they don’t want to admit they need help. That’s what Stiles did for me, so I’m going to return the favor.”

“How chival – ” Deaton says, before Tom jams the taser into his back. His entire body goes rigid and then collapses.

“Well put, Derek,” Tom says, smiling at him. “We should have coffee and talk about this later.”

“Great,” Derek says weakly, as Alec jogs in, clapping Derek on the shoulder. Magnus comes in behind him, far more nonchalant. Blue energy swirls around his fingers and then drifts over to settle around Deaton’s eyes. Alec and Derek get Deaton’s limp body hoisted between them and out the back entrance, where Sheriff Stilinski has the cruiser waiting.

Derek still owns the warehouse, and it will do nicely for this confrontation. Scott will be able to observe without Deaton seeing him. Of course, as soon as they arrive, Scott takes one look at Deaton and nearly goes off the rails. “What have you done to him?”

“He’s just unconscious, duckling,” Magnus says, but he’s taken on a more serious tone than usual, seeming to realize that Scott will take offense at flippancy. “He hasn’t been injured, but we couldn’t exactly ask him nicely to let us perform this experiment.”

Scott’s jaw sets as his gaze moves between Magnus and Derek – then hits Sheriff Stilinski, and stops, his mouth sagging open a little. “Uh, Sh-Sheriff, I didn’t think you’d – ”

“I’m on board with this for the same reason you are,” Tom says, which isn’t precisely true, but will get Scott to back down. “I want to see what Deaton is capable of. I think it’s important that we’re all as informed as possible.”

Isaac reaches out and squeezes Scott’s shoulder. “Come on, man. You said you’d let them make their point and then decide.”

“Fine,” Scott says, clenching his jaw again. “I don’t like it, but okay. But if you hurt him – ”

“Nobody is going to hurt him,” Alec says, sounding about as impatient as Derek feels. “But we need to get this done before Magnus’ spell wears off and he wakes up.”

That isn’t true either – Magnus had been very firm about the fact that his spell will keep Deaton under as long as necessary – but Alec clearly just wants to put a stop to the argument. That amuses Derek, because he wants to put a stop to it, too. Scott backs off, moving across the warehouse so he can hide behind some of the shelves and boxes. Isaac goes with him.

Derek and Alec get Deaton tied up and dangling from the ceiling, and then Magnus puts down the circle of mountain ash. “Will he make a move if he knows you’re here?” Izzy asks, frowning at them as they finish up.

Magnus gives an elegant shrug. “He’ll know I’m involved regardless of whether or not he sees my face. But to answer your question, yes. If anything, that makes it more likely, because he doesn’t like me and will want me to know I haven’t been a hindrance to him.”

“Let’s just get this over with,” Derek says, his throat tight and aching. He’s still afraid that Deaton is going to play helpless, that Scott will charge over to rescue him, that everything will go wrong. He’s not sure how he’ll tell Stiles what happened if this turns into a colossal fuckup.

Magnus holds one hand out. The blue glow immediately leaves Deaton’s eyes and coils neatly in the palm of Magnus’ hand before disappearing. Deaton’s eyes open a few moments later. He startles, just a little, then looks around, taking in his surroundings and the people in front of him. Then he gives a rather put upon sigh, looks directly at Magnus, and says, “Really, Bane?”

“It held you last time,” Derek says, faking bravado. “When Jennifer Blake was in town. And we need to keep you quiet for a little while, so we can take care of some things.”

“Mm hm.” Deaton sounds incredibly unimpressed. He gives one wrist a little twist and there’s a flash of ultraviolet light. Then he drops to the ground, landing in a neat crouch. Derek actually takes a step back, he’s just so startled by how quickly it happened. Deaton looks at the line of mountain ash, then gives one broad sweep of his hand. The circle expands from within, sending the dust right into their faces.

“Shit,” Derek says, sputtering. “Shit, you just – ”

“So what was it that you wanted to talk about, Derek?” Deaton asks, although he’s looking at Magnus more often than not, waiting for him to make a move. “Whether or not I would leave Beacon Hills? I don’t think I will, and I don’t think you can make me. You might have closed off the Nemeton to me, but there’s more than one way to skin a cat, and there’s far more than one source of energy in this godforsaken town.”

“The people here aren’t yours to play with.” It’s Alec who speaks, seeing that Derek is uncertain, and Magnus is still trying not to draw Deaton’s attention. His voice is firm and self-assured. “Beacon Hills is closed for business, Change. Get gone while the going’s good, or you’re going to have more problems than a few werewolves knocking at your door.”

“Such as?” Deaton just sounds amused. “Are you going to sic your Shadowhunter friends on me? You know you can’t. I haven’t broken the Accords, and Shadowhunters aren’t allowed to interfere in Downworlder affairs.”

“You’ve broken them,” Alec says, still confident. “I might not know how, but somewhere along the way, you’ve stepped over a line. I’ll find which one, if you push me.”

Deaton shakes his head. “And what about you, Magnus? I know why you haven’t made a move. You know what I’m capable of. You might be the son of a Prince of Hell, but you can’t beat me and you know it.”

“Oh, Alan, you precious little snake,” Magnus says, shaking his head, “it’s really not us that you should be worried about.”

Deaton looks puzzled for a minute, and Magnus just points. Deaton turns slightly to see that Scott’s come out from behind the shelving, with Isaac at his elbow. For a moment, they just stand there and stare at each other. Then Deaton sighs. “I suppose I can’t talk my way out of this one.”

That jolts Scott into action. “You _son of a bitch_ – ” he says, and lunges forward. Isaac grabs him before he can get very far, knocking him to the ground so the shockwave of magic Deaton sends at them goes over their heads. “How could you? I _trusted_ you – ”

“I’m good at making people trust me,” Deaton says. He doesn’t flinch at the look on Scott’s face, the mixture of grief and confusion and anger. “But it never lasts.” He turns back to Magnus. “Is that all you came here for?”

“Me? Yes,” Magnus says.

“Good.” Deaton turns and opens a portal with a wave of his hand.

Izzy’s whip snakes out and wraps around his wrist before he can go through. “We, on the other hand, have a few more things we need to discuss with you,” she says, with a wicked smile. “You hurt our brother.”

Deaton is unfazed. “You can’t touch me. You’re not even on your own territory. What do you think the Clave will say if they hear about you doing this? They’re probably already annoyed enough that you’re fraternizing with your werewolf brother – yes, I know all about how he was cast out. Lightwood’s lucky to still have the Institute, now that he’s sleeping with a Downworlder.”

“Who I’m sleeping with isn’t the Clave’s business,” Alec says.

“Oh, it’ll be their business if they think it affected your judgment,” Deaton says, his voice still pleasant. “Not only will they let me go free after I demand reparations, but they’ll probably try to force you to sever ties with Bane, and kick you out of your own Institute to boot. Maryse is just waiting for her chance, Alec. Are you going to give it to her? Over me?”

Alec’s gaze is fixed on Deaton, but he says, “Let him go, Izzy.”

“But Derek – ”

“Let him go, now.”

Izzy’s mouth tightens into a grimace, but her whip loosens around Deaton and then coils back around her wrist. Deaton smiles at all of them, steps through the portal behind him, and disappears. The portal itself vanishes a moment later.

Alec’s gaze immediately snaps over to Magnus. “Did it work?”

“Oh, it worked,” Magnus says, a smile curling at his lips.

Scott looks between them, uncertain. So does Derek, who frowns at his brother. “What did you just do?” he asks. “And why didn’t I know you were going to do it?”

“We didn’t know if we’d be able to,” Magnus says, “and I didn’t want to get your hopes up. It depended on how Change decided to exit the building. If he’d gone on foot, we wouldn’t have been able to do it, but I was banking on the fact that he’d portal.”

“So . . . what did you do?” Derek repeats.

“I changed his portal,” Magnus says, smirking. “While he was focused on Izzy and Alec.”

“You can do that?” Derek asks, surprised.

“Oh, puppy, I _invented_ the portal,” Magnus says. “I can do a lot more than that with them. But yes.”

“So where did he end up going?” Tom asks.

“As it turns out, there was a newly emptied magical cage underneath the Nemeton just waiting to be filled,” Magnus says. “That should hold him for a few decades. He’ll get out eventually, but he certainly won’t be any trouble for a while.”

“Can’t he just portal out?” Scott asks.

“It wouldn’t be much of a secure cage if he could,” Magnus says. “Trust me, if it could hold a greater demon, it will be _more_ than adequate to hold Change.”

"I thought you could only portal to a place you've already been," Derek says.

"You're correct. I had a little help from the Silent Brothers. They're the ones taking over the space, so they opened a channel for me to get inside."

"He thinks of everything," Alec says, with a proud little smile on his face.

Scott glances at Magnus, then at Derek. Then he shakes his head a little. “I guess I – I need some time to process all of this.” He looks at Derek again. “Where’s Stiles?”

“Back in New York,” Derek says. “He didn’t know we were doing this.”

Scott looks surprised at this, but then seems to grasp why not. “Oh. Okay. Tell him – just tell him I said hi, okay? And to call me when he gets the chance.”

“Okay,” Derek says. “I’ll tell him.”

“I’ll take you two home,” Tom says, corralling Scott and Isaac. “Don’t forget about that coffee date we’re having, Mr. Hale. I’ll call you.”

“Great,” Derek says weakly, as Tom shepherds the two teenagers out of the warehouse. Once they’re gone, he looks at Alec and Izzy. “So what were you going to do if he _hadn’t_ opened a portal?”

“Let him go, unfortunately,” Izzy says. “We didn’t like it, but we didn’t have a better idea. Magnus was sure that striking at him directly was too risky, and he was right in that we couldn’t have brought him before the Clave. But we were pretty sure he was going to portal, especially out of a big room like this, where getting to any exit would have involved having to put his back to someone he knew was super pissed at him. And we knew if we could get him antagonizing us, he would never notice what Magnus was doing.”

Derek nods slowly. “Thanks,” he says.

Alec slings an arm around his shoulder. “You’re welcome.”

“Was that stuff he said true, though?” Derek asks. “About losing the Institute, being out of favor with the Clave?”

“It is and it’s not,” Alec says. “The Clave doesn’t like me having a warlock boyfriend, that’s true. But it’s not such a big deal to them that they’d do anything about it, as long as the Institute is still running smoothly. After Valentine took the anti-Downworlder stuff to such extremes, the Clave hasn’t really had as much to say about who we Shadowhunters associate with.”

“Good to know,” Derek says. “I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble for my sake.”

“Hey,” Alec says, and grins at him. “We’re brothers. Getting in trouble together is what we’re supposed to do.”

Derek laughs despite himself. “I guess so.”

Izzy shakes her head. “Come on, you two. Let’s go home.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

“Where’ve you guys been?” Cora asks, as the group comes back into Magnus’ loft. She’s sitting with her feet up on the table. Stiles is spread out on the floor with one of his cold cases.

“We had some things to take care of back in Beacon Hills,” Magnus says, and Stiles’ head snaps up. Magnus looks at Derek questioningly, clearly wanting to know if he should continue or if Derek wants to explain.

“We got Scott to believe us,” Derek says. “About Deaton.”

“Oh.” Stiles blinks at him a few times. “Oh, um. Okay, wow. How’d you do that?”

“Tricked him into showing how powerful he really is and talking some trash about Beacon Hills and people in general,” Derek says. “Then Magnus shoved him into the same box that the Void spirit apparently came out of.”

“Now that is some karma in action,” Cora says, smirking.

“How’d Scott take it?” Stiles asks.

“He was upset,” Derek says. “Isaac’s with him. Allison too, probably. I think he’s going to be okay. He said to say hi to you.”

“I’ll take you to visit tomorrow, if you’d like,” Magnus says, then winks at Alec and says, “At the moment, I believe a certain someone is long overdue in removing all my clothes.”

“Thanks for that,” Cora says, rolling her eyes as Alec tows Magnus out of the room.

Izzy laughs. “I’m overdue for a hot shower and a drink myself.” She leans over and kisses Derek on the cheek. “See you tomorrow, big brother.”

Derek says goodbye to her, then watches Stiles, who’s just staring down at the stack of papers in front of him. “I really think he’s going to be okay, Stiles.”

“I should be there for him,” Stiles says, not looking up. “He’s my brother. He’s going to, to need help. Dealing with this, and with, with everything happening back in Beacon Hills.”

Derek takes a deep breath and forces himself not to start shouting at Stiles. “You said you wanted to stay.”

“I do want to stay. That doesn’t mean it’s the right thing to do.” Stiles’ hands twist into knots. Cora stands up and quietly departs, letting the two of them have the room to themselves. “I can’t just walk away from Scott. Not when he needs me.”

“Scott isn’t the only one who needs you,” Derek says.

Stiles still won’t look at him. “But the whole point of this trip was for you to find your family. We found them, we even got your memories back. As a bonus, I’m no longer screaming my throat raw every night. So it’s really time for me to get home.”

“Yes, the point was to find my family, and yes, I’m happy that we did it and that we got my memories back. But this isn’t – it isn’t just about me. It’s about you. Your life, your future. You should do things that you want to do. Not just devote your life to Scott. You’re worth more than that, Stiles.”

Stiles looks up, genuinely surprised and maybe even a little confused by those words. He stares at Derek for a moment too long before he flushes and looks away. “He’s my brother. I can’t just walk away from that.”

“Brothers can do different things without giving each other up. Alec and I aren’t going to do the same thing. That ended when we were ten.”

“But you’re still going to be here. You’re going to stay close by in case he needs you. You’re going to have his back.” Stiles rubs both hands over his face. “There are things I can’t just walk away from. Not unless I had a _damned_ good reason.”

Derek resists the urge to grab Stiles by the shoulders and shake him. “Do you think I invited you along so you could help me find the worst Chinese restaurant on this side of the Mississippi? No. We could have done this stuff over the phone or the internet. I invited you because I wanted you here. With me. Jesus, Stiles, I want you to stay, all right?”

“I thought - ” Stiles nearly chokes on the words. “I thought you invited me along because you wanted me to help you, because that’s all anybody ever wants from me, when they want anything from me at all. People don’t _want me around_. I’ve known that since I was, like, six years old.”

“Yes, I wanted your help, _needed_ your help, but I also like having you around. Just . . . just because.”

“Just because, huh?” Stiles is giving him a focused, intent look.

“What. You want a list?”

“No.” Stiles takes a step closer, into Derek’s personal space. “That’s not what I want.”

Derek looks away, and the moment hangs in the air, waiting. Derek doesn’t move towards him, but he can’t bring himself to move away. Stiles just stands there for what feels like a small eternity before he huffs out a little sigh, his head drooping as he steps back. “I’m going back to Beacon Hills,” he says, not looking at Derek, “and you know why. So stop pretending that you don’t.”

“It isn’t – ” Derek chokes out. “It isn’t that easy for me. Maybe it should be, but it isn’t. I want you to stay. I can’t – ” He forces him to stop his babbling, stop and take a deep breath. He can practically hear Alec telling him to use his words. “I know what you want me to say, and I can’t say it. Not yet. You’re only seventeen. After what happened with Kate, I just – can’t be with someone who’s your age.”

Stiles’ eyes go a little wide and he blurts out, “ _That’s_ what this is about?”

Derek swallows hard. “Stiles, you don’t understand. I was only fifteen, and she – ”

“No, I do understand, God, I just – ” Stiles walks over to him again, reaches out and puts a hand on Derek’s cheek, making Derek look at him. “Derek. You aren’t Kate.”

“I know that. But it doesn’t change anything.”

“It _does_ , Derek. You _aren’t Kate_. You’re not the sort of person who would take advantage of me. You would _never_ do that. And I – I had no idea that was why you – ” Stiles flushes pink and looks down. “I thought it was me. That you just, you know, you tolerated me having my little crush on you but you were trying not to lead me on. And I – it doesn’t matter. You aren’t Kate, and you’re not going to hurt me. Being with you – it makes me feel safe. It’s one of the only things that does, these days. You know how I said my dad would never let me come on this trip? He did, because it was with you. He said that if there was one person he could trust to keep me safe besides him, it was you.”

Derek has to swallow again. “I can’t,” he whispers. “Stiles, I _can’t_.”

“Okay.” Stiles drops his hand from Derek’s face, instead finds Derek’s hand with his own, and squeezes. “ _Okay_. Fine. I’ll be eighteen in like, five months. It’s fine. I can wait.”

“I can’t ask you to do that,” Derek says. “It wouldn’t be fair.”

At this, a slight smile quirks at the corner of Stiles’ mouth. “Do you see other people lining up around the block to date me? I really don’t.” The smile disappears, and he rubs a hand over the back of his head. “I’d rather wait a decade to have you than date someone else tomorrow.”

“I don’t deserve that.”

“Sure you do. You’re awesome, remember? You’re supposed to sit in your awesomeness and be awesome and get used to it.”

“I’m not sure I quite buy that, but . . . okay.” Derek looks down at where Stiles is still holding his hand. “If that’s what you want, then okay.”

“I’m still kind of stuck on the fact that it’s what _you_ want.” Stiles gives him an unsure smile. “You want to date me? Really? Like, go to the movies, hold hands, walk around Central Park and go ice skating and stuff? You, Derek Hale, want to date me?”

Derek smiles despite himself. “Yeah.”

“Okay, but like . . . why?”

Derek shrugs. “I like you.”

“Oh.” Stiles blinks. “Okay. I guess. There’s no accounting for taste, right?” He clears his throat. “But we don’t need to rush into anything, okay? We’ll take it as slow as you want. We’ll do it right. Because we, we could be amazing together, Derek. We _will_ be amazing together.”

“I feel like you’re being way more mature about this than me,” Derek says.

“That’s me, a font of maturity,” Stiles says with a snort.

Derek squeezes his hand. “Will you stay? In New York?”

“I want to,” Stiles says. “God, Derek, I _want_ to. I just don’t know if I can. Let me – let me talk to Scott, talk to my dad, okay? I promise I won’t just leave without saying anything. And even if I do go back to Beacon Hills, I’ll still come visit. I don’t think Magnus is going to let me ditch his lessons, and also he was talking about teaching me to _see in the dark_ and there’s no way anything in Beacon Hills will make me miss out on that.”

Derek huffs out a laugh despite himself. “Good to know. I think.”

“Now come on, tell me about what happened tonight, I feel like there’s a lot of details I’m missing out on and I bet they’re juicy. Let’s raid Magnus’ fridge and you can give me the scoop.”

“Okay,” Derek says, and smiles. “Yeah, okay.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, let's wrap this up with some fluff and fun. ^_^

 

Magnus is suspiciously bright-eyed and perky the next morning, in contrast with Alec, who’s yawning and quite rumpled. Stiles keeps snickering every time he looks at them, while he drinks his coffee and waits for Magnus to get around to taking him back to Beacon Hills. “I guess I’ll come, too,” Derek says, when he finishes his bowl of cereal.

“Why?” Stiles asks. “Thought you couldn’t wait to show that place your back.”

“I, uh.” Derek flushes pink. “Your dad wants to go out to coffee. I think he wants to give me the shovel talk.”

“We’re not even dating yet,” Stiles says, then grabs his phone and announces, “But! It’s only one hundred and sixty-eight days until we can.”

Alec snorts. Magnus looks between the two of them and says, “Did you two finally talk about that?”

“Yes,” Derek says, his blush spreading up to the tips of his ears.

“Well, thank our sweet goddess and savior Beyonce!” Magnus announces to the ceiling. “I thought I was going to have to lock the two of you in a closet together. That or use a truth spell. The jury was still out on that topic . . .”

Alec takes another serene drink of his coffee and says, “Now Izzy owes me twenty dollars.”

“What for?” Derek asks.

“We had a bet going about whether or not you two would manage to talk things through on your own _before_ Magnus lost his chill and intervened.” Alec is smirking. “I won. So thanks for that.”

“Isabelle thinks so little of me?” Magnus gives a dramatic sniff. “What a cruel lady.”

“She’s usually right, though,” Alec says, and Magnus wrinkles his nose at him. “Anyway, why does Stiles’ dad want to give you the shovel talk if you’re not dating, and he can’t even know that you decided to start dating when Stiles is eighteen?”

“Because he’s smart enough to have seen what was going on between us even with all the dithering we were doing,” Derek says.

“We?” Stiles sounds incredulous. “There was no dithering on my part.”

“Okay, fine.” Derek sighs. “The dithering I was doing. Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” Stiles says, beaming at him.

Magnus shakes his head, looking amused. “Well, time and tide wait for no man. Shall we be going?”

“Sure,” Derek says. Magnus takes them back to the Stilinski house, which has Derek giving him the side-eye even though it’s a perfectly reasonable place to start. Stiles hugs his father for several long moments and thanks him for helping Derek out. He says he’s going to go see Scott and then, of course, come back to feed his father health food.

“Don’t be too mean to Derek, all right?” he says.

“I just want to take the man out for coffee,” Tom says. “Scout’s honor.”

With that, Stiles departs, leaving his father and a very nervous Derek. He’s not too worried. He knows that his father actually likes Derek, so to be honest Derek will probably have an easier time of today than he will. He tries to be optimistic as he heads over to the McCall house.

Melissa greets Stiles with an embrace and tells him that Scott is upstairs in his room. “Isaac stayed the night - well, Isaac basically lives here now - but he’s back in school today. Scott asked me for a day off and I figured he probably deserved it.”

“Oh, yeah, school,” Stiles says, laughing nervously as Melissa arches her eyebrows at him. “I kind of, uh, let’s just not talk about me and school. I guess I’ll get my GED or something. Anyway,” he says, and hastily excuses himself to jog up the stairs.

Scott’s up for the day, sprawled out in his desk chair, and he looks up and manages a smile as Stiles came in. “Hey, how are you, how’s the Big Apple?”

“It’s fine, you know, it’s cool.” Stiles sits down on the edge of Scott’s bed. “How are you?”

Scott shrugs. “I feel like an asshole.”

Stiles thinks about how to respond to that. “Well, you don’t look like one.”

At that, Scott gives a snort of laughter. “Thanks, I think? I don’t know. You were totally right about Deaton, I didn’t listen, and now I feel like a jerk.”

“You trusted him,” Stiles says with a shrug. “He was like a dad to you.”

“Yeah, but you, you’re my brother. I should have listened. Just let me apologize, okay?”

“Okay.” Stiles studies him for a long minute. “You’re not pissed? I think Derek figured you’d be pissed. That’s why he cut me out of what he was planning - he didn’t want you to be pissed at me.”

“I was pissed last night,” Scott says. “Hell, I still am a little pissed, but I get why he did what he did. And since literally everyone was on his side except me, I kind of have to figure that I’m the one in the wrong.” He sighs and moves over to the bed so he can sit down next to Stiles. “And the fact that Derek cut you out actually made me less pissed. Because he was trying to protect you, so, you know. I’m glad someone was, since apparently I had my head wedged up my ass.”

“Yeah, well.” Stiles fidgets. “I have to tell you something, and you’re gonna think it’s weird, but just listen, okay?”

“Okay.” Scott gives him the side eye but doesn’t argue.

“Derek and I are kind of dating.” It’s not exactly true, but there’s no way Stiles is getting into the ‘Derek was the victim of a pedophile’ thing with Scott. It’s none of his business. Stiles still regrets saying what he said about Kate in front of everyone, and the least he can do is keep his mouth shut about it now.

As it is, Scott just blinks and says, “Oh, um. Okay. Uh. Why?”

“You know, that’s actually a really excellent question,” Stiles says. “I mean, here I am, a spastic wreck of a seventeen year old, who talks too much about random bullshit, never knows when to quit, and makes really stupid decisions. Then there’s Derek, who’s built like some sort of Greek God, speaks five languages, knows all about history - ”

Scott frowns. “You’re deliberately misinterpreting my question.”

“Yep,” Stiles says.

“I mean, he’s just - Derek.” Scott tries not to look skeptical. “I respect your choices, man, but - Derek.”

“Okay, look. I know you don’t like him. I know he was a jerk to you sometimes. Although it’s probably worth pointing out that we were also jerks to him. But I want you to think back to the beginning, and remember how scared and confused you were, and think about the fact that Derek was just as scared and confused as we were. Yes, he was a jerk sometimes, but he was frightened. His sister had just been killed and he had no idea who was responsible, and he - look.” Stiles huffs out a sigh. “Derek is actually a really amazing person. He’s smart and brave and he, he’s really protective and strangely gentle and I just wanna make out with him on his stupid face and then wrap him in a blanket and make him cocoa and snuggle with him for like, eight hundred years. And you don’t have to understand why. But I didn’t want to hide it from you because, you know, you’re my brother. And I think if you two could just spend some time together while the world wasn’t ending, you would actually get along.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Scott fiddles with the zipper of his sweatshirt. “Is he the reason you’re staying in New York?”

“I haven’t decided yet if I’m staying in New York,” Stiles says. “He’s a part of it. But he’s not the main part. I mean, we didn’t start dating until last night, so it’s not like this has been going on behind your back the whole time. Honestly, I thought he was just kind of tolerating me being around, that’s not the point. The point is, there are reasons I want to stay in New York that have nothing to do with him. Magnus is one of them, and you don’t have to like him, either, but he’s _great_ , Scott. He’s so patient and supportive and also like, flatout badass, and he’s teaching me how to make witch light and how to see around corners and find things I’ve lost and just - and this is just the _simple_ stuff. Imagine what I’ll be able to do after I’ve been learning from him for years.

“And the Institute, man, they have a library like the one in Beauty and the Beast and it’s practically all occult, supernatural stuff, they have records going back four hundred years. They’re letting me work on real cases, capturing real demons, helping real people. I fucking love doing that. If I can get my GED or enroll in an online high school and finish that way, there are so many good schools in New York. I mean, I could get into _Columbia_. Maybe. Probably. Not that I’m sure if I even need a college degree if my goal is to be a wizard private investigator, which by the way is the coolest thing that I’ve ever said out loud.

“Anyway, the point is, no, I’m not staying in New York so I can date Derek. I’m still not even sure I’m staying in New York at all. Not while people here need me.”

“You should, though.” Scott looks up from where he’s been studying his hands, his tone earnest. “If that’s making you happy, you should. It sounds like you’re really learning a lot and helping people, and that - that’s important, man. You shouldn’t stay here for me any more than you should stay there for Derek. You should stay wherever _you_ want to be.”

Stiles gives him a look that’s borderline suspicious. “You thought it was really weird that I would leave Beacon Hills.”

“Yeah, I did. I do. But I’m not you. Just because I want to stay here doesn’t mean that you do.” Scott shrugs a little. “It’s just - it’s been a really long time since I’ve heard you sound so, so excited and passionate about something. At least about something that wasn’t trying to kill us. How can I tell you to stay here when that’s what New York makes you sound like?”

“I guess.” Stiles manages a smile. “You promise you’ll be okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. And I mean, skype and telephones exist. And wormholes, apparently.” Scott’s eyes widen. “Is he going to teach you how to make wormholes?”

Stiles laughs. “No, he says I’m not going to be able to do that. See, I’m only like, one eighth or maybe only one sixteenth magical. The rest of me is all mundane. Which means that in order to do magic, I have to get the power somewhere else. Typically from ley lines. There are two big ones that run under New York, and of course there’s like a bajillion of them here. Anyway, you can also get power from stuff like running water, electricity - you know, natural sources of power. But Magnus says that the power I would need to open a portal would like, fry my brain. I couldn’t channel that much without hurting myself. So, basic stuff I can manage, but nothing like that.”

“Oh. Well, that’s still really cool. Come on.” Scott stands up. “Let’s go to school for a while. I don’t care that you’re not taking classes, I want - I want you to meet Kira, and besides, you should see Allison and Lydia and everyone while you’re in town. We all really miss you, man. And you can show us the magic stuff you’re learning.”

“Yeah? Yeah, okay.” Stiles grins. “That sounds fun.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

Derek’s staring at Stiles, and he knows it, and he knows he shouldn’t be, but he can’t help it. Stiles is just standing there, oblivious, chatting with his father about the meal he’s making and the tension is driving Derek insane. He can’t stand it. Finally, Stiles says something about Columbia, and Derek blurts out, “So you’re coming back to New York?”

Stiles turns to him and his face cracks into a wide grin. “Damn, you held out for seven minutes! I should’ve taken Magnus up on that bet.”

“Stiles,” Derek growls.

“Yes, I’m going back to New York,” Stiles says, still grinning. Then his smile softens, turns into something a little more wistful. “Scott, uh, Scott actually convinced me that I should. That it was the right thing to do. So you know. There’s that.”

“Good,” Tom says, squeezing his shoulder. “Guess I’ll have to start thinking about making arrangements of my own.”

Stiles blinks at him. “You – you’re coming to New York?”

“Figured I would,” Tom says, with raised eyebrows.

“What are you going to do in New York?”

“I don’t know. Not get murdered by witches?”

Stiles exhales in a shaky rush. “Yes, okay, excellent – I didn’t want to – I thought you’d tell me I was just, you know, still freaking out and everything, but – this is good, this is very good, we’re gonna call Magnus and he’s gonna set you up with an apartment and – ”

“Breathe, son,” Tom says. “It won’t happen overnight. I can’t move until after the election anyway. But I think it’s a good idea. I’m not overly attached to Beacon Hills. I’d rather be where you are. I just have to think about what sort of job I can get and how I’m going to support us.”

At this, Stiles shrugs. “Magnus owns _jackets_ that cost more than our house. I wasn’t really worried about it.”

“I’m not just going to mooch off Magnus,” Tom says firmly.

Derek clears his throat. “Well, my new alpha, Luke, he works for the NYPD. I bet he could put in a good word for you.”

“It’d be hard to go from being a sheriff to just being a regular officer,” Tom says. “I’m not sure. I’ll have to think about it. But I appreciate the offer.”

“You could be a PI!” Stiles says. “I bet there are supernatural investigators in New York, we should be a father-son team, we would kick so much ass – ”

Derek shakes his head, but he’s smiling despite himself. “Okay, I’ve got places to be. I’ll be back in a few hours and then we can head back to the city.”

Stiles frowns a little like he wants to ask Derek if he’s all right, but then decides against it. If something is wrong, Derek wouldn’t be smiling like that. So instead he just says, “See you later” and turns back to what he was doing. Derek turns and heads into the woods. He doesn’t have his car, so it’s quicker to take a direct route through the preserve to get where he’s going.

He had talked to Cora about the remnants of their childhood home, and both of them were in agreement that it shouldn’t be left the way it was. It was unstable, people could get hurt, far too many people seemed to think it was a good base of operations. He hadn’t been sure what to do about it before now.

When he gets to the house, Cora’s already there, and so is Peter. Derek looks at him with some surprise; he had texted Peter but hadn’t actually expected him to show up. Peter arches his eyebrows as if to ask why Derek is giving him that look and says, “It was my home too, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” Derek gets out his phone and calls Alec. “Okay, we’re here.”

“Be right there,” Alec says. The portal opens a minute later and Magnus steps through with Alec and Izzy behind him. Izzy immediately moves to give her brother a hug while Magnus views the surroundings.

“You’re sure you can do this?” Cora asks.

Magnus turns and gives her a look, but then seems to realize that her question is due to anxiety, not to doubt. “Yes, I’m sure. Just let me know when you’d like me to proceed.”

Derek studies the house, thinking that he had expected to feel a lot more conflicted about this. He really doesn’t. His family, this family, is gone. Nothing can change that. But somehow he’s okay. He looks at Peter, who just gives a quiet nod. Then he looks at Cora. She lets out a breath and then nods as well. “Okay,” Derek says. “We’re ready.”

Magnus’ hand moves in a circular motion, the blue energy building up behind it as it moves. His other hand joins it, and the power moves out, towards the house. Derek had expected it to be a violent demolition, but it’s not. Wherever the power touches the house, it quietly crumbles into dust. From start to finish, it lasts less than a minute before the ground is clear.

“We should put some sort of memorial here,” Izzy says, reaching out to squeeze Derek’s shoulder. “Like a tree or something.”

“Yeah, that would be nice,” Derek agrees.

As they turn to walk away, Alec says, “You know, what happened was awful, obviously, but at the same time I’m glad that we met you. I don’t know that we ever would have if you hadn’t ended up on your own.”

“Yeah, I don’t know,” Derek says. “I’m glad that I have you guys back, though.”

“I hate to break up the lovely sentiment,” Peter remarks, “but I actually know for a fact that Talia was planning on telling you about your birth family when you were eighteen, and giving you the means to find them.”

“Oh.” Derek blinks. “Well, there goes that.”

Izzy laughs despite herself. “At least we made it here. Maybe we took a bit of a roundabout route, but we’re together. That’s what matters.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

Derek walks into the bedroom of the loft a few days later to hear Stiles on his phone. “No, I know, but – yeah, but – you met Magnus already, he – but _Dad_ – ” Stiles slumps in frustration and then groans dramatically. “Okay, fine, _fine_ , if you insist. I’ll talk to him. And you will see that there is nothing to worry about, and that I am approximately eight hundred times better off here than I was in Beacon Hills. Okay? Okay. Love you, bye.” He hangs up and flops backwards.

Derek leans his shoulder against the door frame. “Problem?”

“Depends. Do you think my dad knowing that we’re dating is a problem?”

Derek’s knee-jerk reaction is that he doesn’t want the sheriff to know, even though he’s ninety percent certain that the sheriff _already knows_. He shouldn’t be dating someone younger than himself, and if Stiles’ father objects, he might lose his chance with Stiles. But then he remembers how Kate had kept him quiet by feeding him those sorts of fears when he was younger. “No. He should know.”

“Good, ‘cause he does,” Stiles says. “Anyway, he decided if he’s going to let me stay here, he wants to come make sure that responsible adults are going to be looking after me.”

“He doesn’t think Magnus qualifies?” Derek asks.

“He said he hadn’t decided on that since he only talked to Magnus for like ten minutes, and he only met Alec while you guys were dealing with Deaton, and he said if we’re going to date then you shouldn’t have to take care of me because that would be weird and shit.” Stiles huffs and tucks his hands underneath his head. “Which he’s right about, but still! I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah, but it’s nice to not have to,” Derek points out.

Stiles narrows his eyes at Derek. “But I’m going to be at college in like, a year. I’m gonna have to learn.”

“At some point, sure. But it’s not like anyone here is going to babysit you.”

“I’m pretty sure my father would prefer it that way,” Stiles grumbles. “He says I’m irresponsible.”

“You think he can’t feed himself. I’d say you two are on even footing.”

“Hey!” Stiles rolls to his feet in outrage that’s only half-faked. “It’s not that I think he _can’t_ feed himself. It’s that he _can_ feed himself, and what he _chooses_ to feed himself is horrible, you were _not_ around after my mom died and he literally ate In and Out five times a week and Melissa _actually told him_ he was going to die of a heart attack at age fifty if he didn’t – ”

“Okay, okay!” Derek lifts his hands in surrender.

Stiles scowls at him. “Did you think I did that for _no reason_?”

“No. I figured you had a reason, but I also figured you were being overprotective.”

“Well.” Stiles huffs again and sits back down. “Maybe a little. I mean, he doesn’t actually do that anymore. It’s just, I still get that knee-jerk reaction whenever I see him eating unhealthy stuff. Plus we have a family history of atherosclerotic heart disease. So there.”

“I don’t even know what that means. But I’m pretty sure your father has a similar knee-jerk reaction when he wants to make sure his kid is taken care of.”

“Maybe,” Stiles grumbles. “But still, he met Magnus! Magnus is four hundred years old! He doesn’t need to come make sure that I’m not sleeping in a box on the street!”

“What does it matter? He’ll meet some people, see that you’re fine, and everyone can move on.”

“But what if he decides I’m not fine? What if he tries to make me go home? We just worked everything out and I finally got over my whole ‘must protect the poor saps in Beacon Hills’ thing and Magnus is teaching me how to make witch light and I want to stay here, what if he decides I can’t stay? I don’t want to go home. _You’re_ here.”

“Oh.” Derek flushes pink, rubbing the back of his head and looking away. He considers for a minute. “I think I know who to introduce him to.”

“He should be happy with Magnus,” Stiles mutters, but then says, “Okay, who?”

“Lydia. She helps Alec run the Institute. She’s a textbook responsible person, _and_ actually likable on top of it.”

“Huh. Yeah, that might help. And Lydia is the one who let me start working the cold cases, so she can tell my dad about that and make me sound really clever.”

“You _are_ really clever. You don’t need her to make you look good.”

“Well, no, but it sure as hell can’t hurt.”

Derek rolls his eyes. Stiles groans and gets up, going to find Magnus so he can open a portal. Magnus takes the news of the impending home inspection with aplomb, and ten minutes later, Sheriff Stilinski is standing in the Brooklyn loft, looking around somewhat skeptically. “Drink?” Magnus asks, heading into the kitchen.

Tom glances between Magnus and Stiles. “No, thanks. I’m not much of a drinker these days. But I’ll take soda water if you’ve got that.”

“Absolutely.” Magnus heads over to his considerably well-stocked bar. A moment later, he returns with a glass that he hands to Tom.

Tom takes it with a nod of thanks and looks around. “So,” he says, “this is where you’ll be staying.”

“Yeah,” Stiles says, fidgeting nervously. “Looks great, right? Like a place where adults live.”

Tom gives Stiles a look. “You have your own room?” he asks, directing this at both Stiles and Magnus.

“I’ve been sharing with Cora and Derek,” Stiles says, cringing a little. “But they’re looking for their own place now that we’re definitely going to be staying long term.”

“Okay. For God’s sake, kid, take a deep breath,” Tom says. “I just wanted to make sure you weren’t sleeping on a fold-out couch or sofa cushions on the floor.” He shakes his head and turns to Magnus. “This isn’t an imposition, is it? Because if so, we can work something out.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” Magnus says, smiling. “The loft is actually, hm, how shall I put this? Malleable. I can create space as I need it.”

“I’m not even going to try to wrap my head around the physics of that,” Tom says.

“Probably wise,” Magnus says. “But no, in any case, I don’t mind. And it’s actually quite convenient, since there’s a semi-permanent portal here to the Institute, so he can go back and forth without needing to rely on public transportation.”

“Speaking of, I’m going to want to see that place, too, since he’s spending so much time there.”

“We figured you would want to!” Stiles says, nearly tripping over himself in his enthusiasm. “And you can meet Lydia, she’s in charge there and she’s very responsible and she’s the one who’s been giving me work to do. Not in like a child labor sort of way, but just to keep me occupied – ”

“Well, God knows you need that,” Tom says dryly.

“Hey! That – that’s totally fair, okay, but my point is, between that and the magic stuff I’m totally occupied, definitely not going to go wandering around getting into trouble.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Tom says. “You were getting into trouble from the moment you could crawl. If you _weren’t_ finding some sort of trouble, I’d worry.” He shakes his head and changes the subject. “Speaking of which, Derek. I hear that you and my son are now officially dating.”

Derek is taken completely off guard by the sudden shift. “Uh, er, yeah. Yes. Yes, we are.”

“Mm hm.” Tom folds his arms over his chest. “And how am I supposed to feel about that, do you think?”

“I . . . don’t know? Sir.”

Tom bites his lip, trying not to laugh. “Okay. Well, since you don’t know, I feel pretty okay about it.” He turns to Stiles. “Make sure you treat him right, you little miscreant. I know you can be thoughtless sometimes. He’s suffered enough, understand?”

“This shovel talk is a little backwards,” Stiles complains.

“Thank you?” Derek is very unsure. In an undertone, he says to Magnus, “What is happening.”

“I’m sure I don’t know,” Magnus says, and claps his hands. “So, to the Institute?”

“To the Institute!” Stiles hastily agrees.

Tom shakes his head at these people that seem really quite perfect for his son. He follows Magnus down a hallway to the portal he’s set up between the loft and the Institute. They’re greeted by Alec, and now that he has time to get a good look at him, Tom says, “That’s a pretty impressive family resemblance.”

“It’s partly the frown,” Magnus says cheerfully, and pecks Alec on the lips.

“And partly the biceps,” Stiles says, then flushes pink when his father raises his eyebrows.

Derek and Alec both roll their eyes.

“And that!” Magnus says cheerfully.

Alec shakes his head. “Come on, I’ll show you around.” He gives Tom a brief tour of the Institute, ending in the file room which Stiles has upended and taken over. Alec can’t help but look somewhat sour as he views the chaos. “This is his, uh, work room I guess you would say.”

“Yeah.” Tom scratches his ear. “The post it notes give it away. Just don’t ever let him use chess as a way to unconfuse you.”

Stiles winces. “Look, that wasn’t entirely my fault . . .”

“I’m still not even sure what your friend Lydia is.”

“She’s a banshee, it’s not important. Hey, speaking of people named Lydia, why don’t we track down the one who works here so she can tell you how responsible she is?” Stiles ducks out of the room without waiting for an answer. Tom somehow manages to keep a straight face and follows Stiles out of the room.

They find Lydia in her office, sorting through a number of reports. She greets Tom with a  firm handshake and a brisk smile. “Lydia Branwell. It’s nice to meet you. Stiles talks about you constantly.”

“And what does my little miscreant say about me?”

“That you taught him everything he knows, are a dead shot with a 9 mm, and that you could probably ‘have this entire place whipped into shape’ within a few weeks, which I found particularly interesting since I wasn’t aware it required whipping.”

“H-Hey, that – that’s out of context,” Stiles mumbles, flushing pink.

There’s a long pause, before Tom points to her and says, “You. I like you.”

“Yes!” Stiles does a fist pump that’s not at all subtle.

Lydia glances between them, looking amused. “Yes, I was told that I should act like a responsible adult while you were here and try to make a good impression.”

“Don’t tell him that!” Stiles protests. “He’ll think you’re faking!”

“Faking what, being in charge of the New York Institute?” Lydia asks, arching her eyebrows at Stiles. “Having given you a job? Which, by the way,” she adds to Tom, “is only solving cold cases. He’s not to work on any active cases, and he absolutely will _not_ be going into the field, regardless of how many times he tells me that’s not fair.”

Tom turns to Stiles. “Do you _want_ to be eaten by some weird monster?”

“No! I just think that, you know, if I do all the leg work to put a case together, it’s only fair if I get to be there when they catch the weird monster! And Magnus has been teaching me protection spells,” he adds smugly.

“Then when Magnus thinks you’ve learned enough to be safe, you can negotiate with the people who run things here,” Tom says, “as long as it’s on or after your eighteenth birthday.”

“God, I have to wait until I’m eighteen to do _everything_ ,” Stiles groans.

Derek flushes pink and looks around to see if he can quietly escape. Tom notices this, shakes his head, and says, “Just stop,” to his son.

Stiles wrinkles his nose. “So, uh, anyway, see how strict they are with me? They’re taking really good care of me, very responsible, Lydia, tell him how responsible you are, aren’t you like the youngest Institute Head in all of the – ”

Tom watches his son flail for a minute before he starts laughing. “Stiles, what have you been telling these people? What do you think is happening here?”

“You came to meet the people in charge of me because you don’t trust me!”

“I came to make sure you weren’t living in a cardboard box and that you weren’t imposing on anyone, and also to see if any of the adults could give me a recommendation for a real estate agent or had any advice on finding a job.” Tom’s trying not to laugh harder. “So while I appreciate everyone’s effort, and I’m glad you obviously like my kid enough to put up with this, you can all relax.”

Alec rubs both hands over his face, looks at his brother, and says, “You owe me a beer.”

Tom gives a snort. “Anyone else of drinking age want one? Show me a decent apartment and I’ll buy the round.”

“I have a place in mind already,” Magnus says. “But if you don’t mind my asking, if you’re definitely planning to move to New York, why are you concerned with Stiles’ living arrangements?”

“I can’t make it out here right away. Sheriff is an elected position. It might not mean as much in a big city, but in places like Beacon Hills, I’m the head of law enforcement. I could leave before my term is up, but that’s in November, so I really don’t want to cut out early. Given the weirdness of Beacon Hills, I really owe the next sheriff, and the entire county’s population, enough time to make sure everything’s going to be okay.”

“Ah. That makes perfect sense.” Magnus looks at Stiles and says, “Is there a reason you decided to give us all heart attacks?”

“Because . . . what if Dad made me come home?” Stiles says, lamely.

Tom pushes a hand through his hair, thinking about how another thing he’s going to have to find in New York City is a therapist for his kid. “I literally put you in the car to come out here in the first place! I’m the one who talked you into not coming right back home after the thing with Scott and Deaton. I told you to apply to Columbia!”

“Well, yeah, but . . .” Stiles’ voice trails off. Then he frowns. “Wait, that means you were coming out here to make sure that I wasn’t making trouble for them! That’s rude, Dad.”

“And yet.”

Stiles folds his arms over his chest. “I’m _not_ making trouble. Right?”

“Well . . .” Alec says. He sees the look of outrage on Stiles’ face and laughs despite himself. “You _did_ destroy my records room.”

“In the search for truth and justice!”

Tom shakes his head. “You’re both fans of melodrama, I see.”

“Oh, I could tell you stories,” Magnus says.

Alec narrows his eyes. “You’re the biggest drama queen here.”

Magnus shrugs. “What’s your point?”

Derek speaks up. “No. Stop. You two aren’t having a, a sass-off right now. We’re trying to be responsible adults, remember?”

Tom shakes his head. “Why don’t we let Lydia and Alec get back to work, and Magnus can show me a couple apartments, and we can all take some deep breaths and stop thinking that there’s going to be an interrogation. Okay?”

“I do love apartment hunting,” Magnus says. He kisses Alec on the cheek and then swans away, clearly expecting the others to follow. “What sort of view were you looking for?”

“The kind that’s seen through a window,” Tom replies.

“Given that this is New York City, you’ve just ruled out more places than you might care to think. Shall we?”

Tom can’t help but give his head another little shake. “Sure. Why not.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, a big thank you to the many people who offered advice on how to wrap this up, since the last scene was giving me so much trouble.
> 
> Second of all, an even bigger thank you to all of you for reading and for all of your kind comments! <3

 

Magnus, of course, knows the perfect bar. Tom gives him the side-eye like he’s not sure he trusts the warlock’s taste, but it turns out to be a completely normal tavern, just a little on the neater side. Tom buys the first round and they settle in the corner. Lydia has to leave before she can drink half of her beer, as duty calls, but tells Alec to stay and that she’ll text him if she needs him.

As they set into their second round, Tom says, “So Derek, if you’re going to be staying in the city long-term, have you given any thought to what kind of job you’re going to look for?”

Derek shrugs. “I have no idea. We have some money, but it won’t last forever. I don’t even know what the hell I’d actually be qualified for.”

“Did you finish high school?” Tom asks.

“Yeah. Or, well, I have my GED.”

Magnus gives an elegant shrug. “You really don’t have to worry about it, you know. Stiles’ comments about my wardrobe aside, money isn’t an issue for either me or for your brother.”

Derek shifts uncomfortably. “Just because you _can_ support me doesn’t mean you should have to.”

“That’s true, but,” Alec says, “it does mean that you don’t have to rush into anything. You know, you can actually take the time to think about what you’d really like to do, rather than getting a job, uh, flipping burgers. Do mundanes still flip burgers or is that just an expression?”

“They have automated flippers now, darling,” Magnus says.

Derek looks between them and then shares a look with Tom. “Are you for real?”

Alec flushes pink. “I don’t know what mundanes do, okay? And don’t blame me for Magnus being a troll.”

“I thought he was a warlock,” Tom says.

Derek takes pity on Tom. “A warlock by genetics and a troll by nature.”

Tom shakes his head. “I need another beer.”

“My round, I think,” Magnus says, laughing, and gets up to go to the bar.

Derek waits until Magnus gets back before saying, “If I have the time, and enough money, I’d like to actually go to school.”

“Well, that would make sense,” Magnus says. “Every time I see you, you’ve got your nose buried in some dusty old book. Not at all like your brother,” he adds, winking at Alec. “His pursuit of knowledge is more . . . physical.”

“Magnus,” Alec groans.

Tom hastily redirects. “What do you want to study?”

“History. Maybe sociology.” Derek thinks about it. “History.”

“Well, I can certainly help you there,” Magnus says, “given how much of history I’ve witnessed. What’s your focus? Greece? Egypt? The Americas? I can definitely tell you a story or two about why the East India Trading Company is history’s worst supervillain.”

“God, you know, I actually already knew that?” Tom says, and shakes his head. “My son once lectured me on that topic for hours.”

Derek laughs. “I got the part of the lecture about how Lipton tea was what they swept off the floor after the other tea was gathered up.”

“And how much went into Boston harbor, down to the last penny, adjusted for inflation,” Alec adds.

Tom shakes his head. “Is there anybody left my son hasn’t given educational seminars to? You have my deepest apologies.”

“Well, if I study history, maybe I can exact revenge,” Derek says.

“On the East India Trading Company?” Magnus says. “I did that ages ago.”

“I meant on Stiles. What did you . . . never mind.”

“Still, if you wanted to study, you’re in a good place to do it,” Magnus says, breezing by this. “New York City has a lot of good schools. I think Stiles was talking about going to Columbia, but that’s hardly his only option, or yours.”

“I’d have to look around, and see how much tuition actually costs. We have money, and I did invest it, but it’s hardly endless.” Derek sighs. “I honestly hadn’t planned for the future in a while. I mostly invested everything because then Peter couldn’t use it to be an even bigger dick.”

Tom snorts. “And I definitely discovered that living here isn’t cheap.”

“Well, I could work for the Institute part time,” Derek muses.

“Oh, puppy, no,” Magnus replies.

Alec looks affronted, and Derek’s eyebrows go up. “Excuse me?”

“That would be a terrible work environment for you,” Magnus says. “Regardless of how far Alec himself has come, most Shadowhunters are incredibly specist. Unless you want to spend all your time with people looking down their nose at you, it’s the last place you want to be.”

“Plus I hear they don’t have dental,” Tom mentions.

“I also know that a lot of their information is wrong.” Derek sighs. “Most likely because they’re specist.”

“Yes, and while I would certainly respect you if you offered to audit all their books for actual accuracy, I don’t imagine it would get you very far,” Magnus replies.

Alec is frowning. “Well – I don’t know about that. At _our_ Institute, at least, it might be helpful to have more accurate information on different types of Downworlders.”

“Yeah, I’m not offering to work for the Clave. They can . . .” Derek shoots a glance at Tom and then cuts himself off before he can say something regrettable in front of his boyfriend’s father. “Well, you get the idea.”

Magnus snorts. “Well, one thing at a time. First of all, we need to find you an apartment. Since I doubt you’ll be living on campus with Stiles.”

“No, and Cora sure as hell wouldn’t appreciate that,” Derek says.

“And for some odd reason you don’t seem content to sponge off me the way Stiles does, so I suppose we’d best find you a place to live.”

Tom rubs both hands over his face. “You said he wasn’t imposing.”

“I stand by it. Sponging and imposing are two very different things.”

“You have to understand, Magnus doesn’t usually bother with tact,” Alec says. He looks like he’s torn between amusement and embarrassment. “If he says Stiles isn’t imposing, then he means it.”

“I’ll take your word on it.”

Derek redirects. “I’ve narrowed it down to a few places. We can go take a look at them tomorrow. I’m sure Stiles has researched them very thoroughly.”

“While I’m here, it would be nice to meet your alpha,” Tom adds. “Since you mentioned him being a member of the police force here. I don’t think I actually want to get a job with the NYPD, but it’d be nice to have contacts there for when I hang out my shingle.”

“So are you actually going to be a private eye?” Derek asks. “God, Stiles must be over the moon.”

“He’s had some interesting things to say about it,” Tom says dryly, “but actually, Lydia and I were discussing it earlier. There’s something of a personnel gap between supernatural cases that are Shadowhunter territory and cases that are mundane. So it could be that working on them would be a place for me.”

“Dealing with people like Alan Change,” Alec says, nodding.

Tom nods. “Downworlders police their own, or so I’ve been told. But Downworlders aren’t detectives. Something goes wrong, they might not always know who’s responsible or how to find them.” He takes a drink of his beer. “We’ll see how it goes. But Lydia said that those cases generally get fielded by the NYPD, who don’t have any idea what to do with them for obvious reasons, so having connections there would help. It won’t be easy, but it’ll be a walk in the park compared to the job you guys are going to have to do.”

“Which is?” Derek asks.

“Keeping Stiles distracted so he doesn’t immediately jump on every case that comes through my door.”

Everybody groans.

“You said he wasn’t imposing,” Tom says, his voice the tiniest bit smug.

“Well, we might have overstated a little,” Alec says, “but we can’t send him back now. Derek likes him too much.”

“True,” Derek says.

“All in favor of Derek getting the next round?” Magnus says, and everybody says ‘aye’.

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

Stiles is halfway through a case involving three bodies that turned up murdered in some sort of ritual, with four different books open on the table in front of him and papers taped up all over the walls, when he hears voices in the hallway. One of them he recognizes as Lydia, who doesn’t sound happy. “ – don’t need to ask for your permission, if you’ll care to recall.”

Cora looks up as well, a faint frown touching her face. She’s been sprawled in the corner with one of the harlequin romance novels she won’t admit to liking. She catches Stiles’ eye, who shrugs a little as the other woman responds. “You may be in charge now, but those cases are from _my_ tenure as the Head of this Institute, and common courtesy if nothing else would dictate that you notify me of any changes!”

“I figured common courtesy was better served by _not_ calling you to tell you that a seventeen year old was making you look bad,” Lydia says, her tone haughty.

Cora slaps her book shut and says quietly, “This is going to be hilarious.”

“I’m so getting Derek on speaker,” Stiles agrees, taking his phone out. He gets it dialed just as the door open and the clearly annoyed woman walks in.

She looks at both Stiles and Cora and then whips around to face Lydia again. “Why is there a _mundane_ and a _Downworlder_ in my Institute?”

Lydia clearly decides that now isn’t the time to address the issue of Stiles technically being part fae, as that played no part in her decision. “Because I invited them. Obviously.”

“Besides, it’s not your Institute,” Stiles says, bouncing out of his chair. “I think it’s Lydia’s now, right? And you must be Maryse Lightwood.”

Maryse’s lip curls into a sneer. “Yes, I can see that you are in fact a magnificent detective.”

“Well,” Lydia states evenly, “he has solved sixteen cases in three weeks, one of which was the murder of a Shadowhunter. I think ‘magnificent’ is a bit of a flamboyant term, but I wouldn’t hesitate to say ‘excellent’.”

Stiles flushes pink and blurts out, “I don’t even know if I’d go that far, I mean, there were a bunch that just came together kind of like when you pick at a knot and a whole sweater unravels, they actually weren’t that difficult, it’s just that whoever was supposed to be working on them missed some _really_ big red flags – ”

Maryse’s jaw clenches. “The person working on them,” she says venomously, “was me.”

“Oh.” Stiles blinks, thinks about this, and says, “Okay, yeah, I understand why you think I’m magnificent, then.”

Cora loses it in the corner, bursting into a string of giggles that she can’t seem to stop. “Oh my God.”

“I _beg_ your pardon,” Maryse says at the same time. “You need to be taught respect. You’re in the presence of Shadowhunters. You are nothing but an insect to our kind, and I will not tolerate this kind of attitude.”

“What kind of insect?” Stiles asks.

Maryse seems taken off guard. “I – what?”

“Oh, I’m just curious, what kind of insect? Because, you know, there are some insects, like honeybees, which humanity literally couldn’t live without, but then there are more pestiferous insects like fruit flies and then there are insects which are honestly just assholes, like wasps. Sidebar, did you know that termites outnumber human beings _forty-thousand to one_? I mean, holy shit, that’s a lot of fucking termites – sidebar over, anyway, I’m just trying to really grasp your metaphor here.”

Maryse gapes at him, completely stymied as to how to reply. Alec and Derek arrive, with Magnus behind them, just as Stiles is talking about honeybees, and when Maryse just stares at him without reply, Alec says, “Holy shit, he actually shut her up.”

“Excuse me!” Maryse recovers quickly, spinning on one heel to confront her son. “I did _not_ come all the way from Idris to – ” She catches sight of Derek and her voice falters just slightly, but she finishes her sentence regardless. “ – be spoken to like that.”

Derek draws himself up to his full height and steps protectively in front of Alec. “Too bad.”

Maryse’s face hardens into the same angry frown. “So. You must be Mr. Hale.”

“My detective skills must be wearing off on her,” Stiles says to Cora in a stage-whisper.

“I am,” Derek confirms. “Apparently I’ve changed a lot. You haven’t. I remember you very well.”

“So you’ve recovered your memories. Well, I wish you the best of luck wherever the wind takes you. Now, to return to what I was saying – ”

“I don’t plan to leave,” Derek interrupts. “You took my siblings away from me once. Took my _twin brother_ away from me. It won’t be happening again. How could you? How could you do that to Alec?”

“I’m not required to justify my choices to you,” Maryse says, her mouth stretched into a thin line.

“There’s no justification available. Nothing you say would be an acceptable excuse for what you and Robert did. That werewolf might have turned me into a Downworlder, but I was already the son of monsters. I _remember_ now. You didn’t hesitate. You didn’t pause. I’m honestly surprised you didn’t actually murder me. Even when my mother said she didn’t want my memories taken, that she’d still take me in, you insisted. What is wrong with you?”

“I wouldn’t expect someone like you to understand,” Maryse snaps.

“What about someone like me?” Alec asks. “I’m still a Shadowhunter, even if you don’t like it. So what about this am I supposed to understand?”

Maryse takes a moment to gather herself. “You understand the importance of a name. Of a reputation. You _know_ why we had to do it.”

“Just for that, I’m tempted to take my old name back,” Derek says, and Stiles snorts.

“I understand the importance of a name,” Alec says, meeting his mother’s gaze. “I understand that you were desperate to restore the Lightwoods to glory after you shit all over our reputation when you joined Valentine. I understand that you’ve spent my entire life telling me it was _my_ responsibility to fix the mess you made. I understand all those things. But I still don’t understand why you took my brother away from me.”

“Do not make this my fault, Alexander Gideon Lightwood,” Maryse retorts. “You know whose fault it is. If we’re going to talk about cleaning up someone else’s mess, we should start with the one _you_ made.”

“Bullshit!” Derek snaps. “How it Alec’s fault that while I was screaming for my brother, you helped people hold me down and steal my memories? Yes, we snuck out. Yes, it was stupid. So being bit was on me. But everything else? Everything after that? That’s all on you.”

“I did what I had to do!” Maryse shouts.

“You’re never going to understand it, you know.” It’s Magnus who speaks, his voice quiet, and everyone turns to him in surprise. Most of them had forgotten he was there. “You can stand and shout at each other all day if you want, Derek, but you’re never going to get an answer out of her because there isn’t one. That’s what prejudice is.”

Derek looks at Magnus for a long moment. “You’re right.” He turns back to Maryse. “Go away. And leave us all alone.”

Maryse folds her arms over her chest. “I am not done with the issue of a mundane having access to our case histories.”

“Jesus, lady, hop off my D already,” Stiles says. Derek and Cora both start to laugh, partly at what Stiles said, and partly at the look of utter confusion on Maryse’s face.

“This is a security issue,” Maryse insists.

“Oh, come on!” Alec says. “You’re only pissed off because he’s solving things you couldn’t solve. You wouldn’t give a shit if he was just in here playing around. But he’s making you look bad, proving that you never had this place under control, that you never put in half the effort it would have needed because you were so busy sucking up to the Clave. So go cry to them about how we’ve got a security breach and then I’ll tell them that the only reason you care is because of your precious reputation. See how far that gets you.”

“Or you could just go away,” Derek says.

Maryse’s mouth twists. She looks at Lydia and says, “We’re not done with this.”

“We’re done if I say we’re done,” Lydia says, with a pleasant smile, “and I do.”

“We’ll see about that,” Maryse says, and storms out without another word.

“Wowwwww,” Stiles says, in her wake. “Wow.”

Derek, meanwhile, turns and pulls Alec into a hug. Alec’s hand clutches at the back of his shirt and he leans down so he can press his forehead into Derek’s shoulder. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“For what?” Derek asks, pressing his nose into Alec’s hair.

“I have no idea,” Alec admits.

“Then don’t make me flick your nose.”

Alec gives a wan smile at that and pulls away, absently rubbing at his eyes while everyone pretends not to notice. “So, hey. Now you’ve met my mother.”

“So it would seem,” Derek says. “It didn’t end up going quite the way I wanted, though. You know, with the public humiliation and everything. As much as it’s entertaining how she hates Stiles being here and solving her cold cases, it’s not the revenge I envisioned.”

“I’m not sure ‘revenge’ is really what you should want,” Magnus says, squeezing Alec’s shoulder. “Maryse sending you away was awful, but it might have been better for you in the long run.”

Derek scowls at him. “I don’t want revenge for her sending me away, or even taking away my memories. But she hurt my siblings. She told them I was dead. I’m not going to forgive her for that.”

“There’s a difference between ‘not forgiving someone’ and ‘actively seeking revenge’,” Magnus says.

“It’s not active,” Derek grumbles.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m doing,” Cora says. “Actually, I’ve been thinking about making a trip back to Brazil. Fill a box up with snakes that I can hide under her bed.”

“Now we’re talking,” Stiles says, slapping the folder shut like they’re going to get on a plane right that minute.

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

Magnus insists on throwing Derek and Cora a housewarming party as soon as the lease is signed on their new apartment. “Is this just an excuse to have a party?” Derek asks suspiciously.

“I need absolutely no excuse to throw a party,” Magnus says, then adds, “but having one certainly doesn’t hurt.”

“So that’s a yes,” Derek says, and rolls his eyes. In truth, he doesn’t really mind. Magnus throwing a party he feels no need to have doesn’t really register on a grand scheme of ‘things he doesn’t want to happen to him’. Alec is just laughing and shaking his head.

The party is actually pretty awesome. Magnus provides the drinks, and they order a ton of Chinese food. Luke is invited, and brings his wife Jocelyn, who Derek has heard about but hadn’t met yet, along with a handful of pack members. Derek is learning to get along with them - they’re rough around the edges, true, but then again so is he.

Jace comes with Max in tow, and although Magnus makes a few comments about Jace’s company, it’s all in good fun. Clary and Izzy show up together with a number of things they’ve bought to help decorate, which Derek feels is highly unnecessary but accepts regardless. He and Cora have already purchased the basics, sheets and towels and kitchen appliances. He doesn’t really see why they need soap shaped like shells or a beaded curtain to hang in one of their doorways, but he’s very sure that questioning this wouldn’t get him anywhere.

In addition to that, a lot of the Beacon Hills crew are there. Derek isn’t even sure how they found out about the party, but is surprisingly okay with them being there. “Did you invite them?” he asks Stiles, who nods. “Not to be a jerk, but why?”

“If we’re going to be technical,” Stiles says, “I invited Isaac. He asked if Scott could come, and once Scott was coming, I figured you wouldn’t mind if Allison and Lydia and everyone was here to.” He reaches out and folds his hands into Derek’s. “I know you’ve missed Isaac. Now, I personally might not see the point in his persistent negativity and scarves, but if you want him around, I’ll deal.”

Derek squeezes his hand. “Thanks.”

Peter shows up, too, and when Derek asks him how _he_ knew about the party, Peter just looks at him and says, “Infant, please,” which could mean pretty much anything. He’s not exactly happy with Peter being there, but he doesn’t exactly hate it. Despite his many faults, Peter is still his uncle.

Magnus has invited some local friends, some of whom Derek has met before but many of whom he hasn’t. Edwin Scratch surprises everyone by accepting the invitation. They’re less surprised when he turns up with four cats in tow. One of them jumps up onto the top of a tall bookshelf and immediately makes herself at home. “So I guess we have a cat now?” Cora says to Derek.

“The cat has you,” Edwin says, sounding offended.

Cora looks like this makes sense to her. “I met some jaguars when I was down in Brazil. Pretty much had a ‘you don’t bother me, I don’t bother you’ deal with most of them. It worked.”

“Is she joking?” Isaac asks.

“No more than usual,” Stiles tells him.

At eight, Jace departs to bring Max home, although he promises that he’ll come back afterwards. Max is protesting that he doesn’t want to leave, that he’s not tired. Derek gives him a bear hug and promises him that they’ll see each other soon.

About half an hour later, while Stiles is desperately trying to get the others to agree to play charades, which absolutely nobody wants to do, there’s a knock on the door. Alec goes over to answer it, and steps back, surprised, to let his father in. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I might stop by and meet Derek,” Robert says. His tone as diffident; he’s clearly sure that he’s not wanted there.

Alec gives him a look for a minute, then sighs and nods. He waves Derek over, and Derek frowns but walks towards them. “Derek, this is my father, Robert Lightwood,” he says, stressing the singular pronoun. “Dad, Derek.”

“It, um. It’s nice to meet you,” Robert says, reaching out for Derek’s hand.

Derek shakes it but says nothing.

“I just wanted to – ” Robert clears his throat and looks around. “Perhaps we could speak in private?”

Derek shrugs. “Is there something you want to say to me that you’re not willing to say in front of my family?”

“Well, no, but . . .” Robert looked more uncomfortable than anything else. “I wanted to apologize. I know that you probably don’t want to hear it, and you have no interest in forgiving me, and that – that’s fine, honestly. But I figured I still owed it to you. I tried to do what I thought was best for all my children, but the results matter more than the intentions, so I’m sorry for any pain you went through because of what we did. It won’t fix anything, I know, but I just thought I might – get to know you. As a man.”

Derek studies him for a minute before he says, “I’ll think about that. If only because I’d like to spend more time with Max, and you might be able to make that a little easier.”

“Of course,” Robert says. He looks around and says, “Well, I don’t want to intrude. I’ll probably see you at the Institute – maybe we can talk. But, er, I brought this for you.” He hands over a small gift-wrapped box. “As a housewarming gift. Welcome to New York. I hope I see you again soon.”

“Yeah, that . . . that might be okay,” Derek says.

The room is quiet until after Robert’s left, and Stiles says, “That was interesting.”

Alec shrugs a little. “I kind of figured Dad might come around if he had time. At least to the point of accepting that Derek is an adult now, and he might want to get in touch with him.” He leans over Derek’s shoulder and adds, “So what’s in the box?”

Derek carefully unwraps the paper while Stiles bounces around him, clearly itching to start tearing it off. He finds a framed picture inside. “Oh my God,” he says, feeling tears sting at his eyes. It’s a picture of him, Alec, and Izzy when they were children, playing in one of the Institute’s hallways, with Church sprawled out next to them.

“That’s such a cute picture!” Cora says, then immediately scowls when the others look at her.

“It really is,” Stiles says. “Aww, Derek, you were so adorable, I wanna pinch your cheeks.”

“Pinch my cheek and you’ll lose your fingers,” Derek tells him. Naturally, Stiles immediately reaches out to do so. Derek grabs his hand and presses a kiss against his palm instead, making Stiles flush bright pink and rendering him speechless.

“Let’s hang that up right over the mantle,” Alec says, taking the picture and handing it to Magnus. “If you’d care to do the honors?”

“Of course, my darling.” Magnus gave one hand a little twist, producing a little burst of magic and fixing the frame on the wall. “How’s that?”

“Perfect,” Derek says.

“And there’s room for a lot more,” Stiles says, twining his fingers through Derek’s. “So we’re all going to have to get to work filling up the blank space.”

Derek leans in and presses a kiss against Stiles’ temple, feeling warm and content. “Yes, we are.”

 

~fin~


End file.
